Intrigue
by NightbirdSongbird
Summary: Legolas is being raised as a girl, because my muses bit me.Lots of court intrigue and plotting. chap-12, finally!.Slash, LH -ishness. Leggy is hit over the head with a sack of disturbing thoughts by... three guesses who... adar dear!
1. Faux Princess

Legolas fic again!!!!!!! Yay! I am SO into that scrumptious elf.  
Legolas: Is that a good thing or a bad thing for my mental health?  
In this demented fic, Thranduil's wife, whose name is, yet again, Eilphdi, dies after giving birth to twins. Sob.  
Legolas: Wuh-oh. I smell a plot twist...  
To supply a female, Thranduil decides to raise one child as a girl. Three guesses who.  
Legolas: !@#$%^&*!@#$%^&*&^%$#*!@#$%^&*!!!!!!!!!!! Why is it always me?  
Because I say so. Shut up. Okay, now that that's been cleared...  
  
Chapter One: Faux Princess  
  
Legolas- or, as the majority of the people knew him, Princess Legala- absentmindedly curled the hem of his dress between slender fingers. His maid was setting the waves into his hair for him tonight, because he was simply too tired to do it himself. The entire day had been spent at Council, filling in for his brother. He liked the work, but he wasn't really suited for it. He preferred to paint and draw, and ride his horses out through the dark paths of the forest.  
  
His brother was currently out on a field mission, miserable as he could be. Legolas would have done anything to have their roles reversed, but...  
  
//As adar constantly reminds me, it is not a ladylike occupation. Or at least, not a princesslike occupation, being a member of the Mirkwood Guard's company. I do envy Romul. He will be able to see so many animals and plants I can only read about.//  
  
When he was born, his father had insisted that he be raised as a princess, because he looked the most like his mother. He had inherited Eilphdi's golden hair, her lips, her cheekbones, her smile, and now her title. The only reason her kept with it was because Thranduil was most likely going mad, and would not hesitate to take aggressions out on him if he did not wear his disguise. Secondly...  
  
//Secondly, no one knows that Legolas exists. I think adar has forgotten- he really does not know that I am not a princess.// Legolas sighed, and bent his head. //Even my own brother thinks I am Legala. I have no one to talk to...//  
  
Mari slapped the side of his head. "Princess! Your hair will mess if you wiggle so!"  
  
Legolas mumbled an apology, and continued to stare sadly into the mirror, gazing at a face that was indisputably female. He became she; Legala looked back at herself.  
  
Legala reached for a container of makeup and began to powder her face, letting it soak up her sweat and the oil on her nose. One good thing about the heavy ceremonial makeup was that it prevented acne. Legala smiled wryly. She really was more of a girl at times like this.  
  
The skirt she wore was a beautiful shade of deep blue and pale blue, puffing out like chiffon because it had so many layers. It was, in reality, spider silk. Well, at least the monsters were good for something. The top was a bit more tight and ruffly than Legala would have liked, but still, he-  
  
//Focus, Ala. Think of yourself as a girl, and it'll be easier to forget that you aren't. Although, the padding in the chest IS a tad bit unnecessary... I guess adar still tries to see mother in me, even though our eyes were different...//  
  
Legolas sighed, and let his concentration shatter. //Who am I kidding? I'll never think of myself as a girl for more than three minutes at a time before some ugly oaf takes a swipe at me. Or until someone really pretty distracts me.//  
  
He set down the powder brush, his face now completely white. Legolas reached for the pot of lip paint, and began to apply it. It tasted nasty when it got on his tongue, wet and slimy. He was very very grateful that he only had to wear it during high ceremonies. Same for the white powder; he was pale enough to go without it, but protocol insisted that he dress in full attire for all wide social events.  
  
It was rather boring and a bit tiresome to keep having bulky, brawny, sweaty men present themselves as his suitors. Sure, that was the general preference, but didn't some girls prefer the incredibly pretty boys? Legolas pouted. It wasn't fair. He was, as a girl, forced to watch all the roughhousing and brawls between suitors over his hand in marriage, when he'd rather they all disappeared in a hole in the ground, swallowed up forever where they couldn't bother him...  
  
//Now, now, Legolas, those are the thoughts of a weakling. Cease your endless fascination with dead hopes. You will never be a man, not as long as your father lives. You will never marry, because even your father would not betray his own secret. You are destined to be alone in this life; simply shoulder your burdens without complaint and don't keep chasing shadows.//  
  
Legolas sighed, and he stood up gracefully, the long skirts swaying from his hips to his ankles in an alluring fashion. He blushed under the powder. He hated wearing this dress, really. It made his figure look even more feminine.  
  
Mari gently took his hair out of its confines and it burst out, waves crisp and fresh. She then took two small, gold, bowl-shaped wire weavings in an ivy pattern, and put up two small sections of his hair in clips. Then, she put half of the separated sections up into buns, leaving tails that trailed down in a golden waterfall to mix with his other hair. She secured the hair ornaments over the buns with a few hairpins, and then stepped back, satisfied.  
  
Legolas saw his reflection and gasped involuntarily, his hands reaching up to touch the glass before him. "My hair looks... like it is the ocean," he said truthfully, amazed. "I do not recognize myself. Truly, Mari, you work wonders with my hair! I can hardly manage to brush it on my own, and yet you can transform me..."  
  
//I wonder which half of me is more real? The half that the world sees, or the half that I say is my true self?// Legolas smiled at himself, and then turned away from the mirror. //I suppose it does not matter, my second half. According to the rest of the world, that other half of me does not exist.// ******************************************************************  
  
*****tbc*****  
Yay! Reviews, please.... 


	2. Dancing Queen

A/n: New Chappie!!! But it's a short one... ^^.  
  
Disclaimer: I no own Lord of the Rings.  
  
Chapter Two: Dancing Queen  
  
The dance hall smelled overpoweringly of burnt honey and incense, which seemed to make the dancers all the more enthusiastic but made a certain Princess Legala feel sick.  
  
//I hate balls. I never make any new friends, all the girls are my 'bestest pals' already. And the only men that ever approach me...//  
  
A large hunk of muscle moved in his direction, wearing a long ivory robe. Legala smiled icily up at him. "Thank you, but I am not in the mood to dance with anyone right now," the Princess said smoothly. The muscle looked disappointed, and lumbered away,  
  
//... are HIS type. Really. You'd think there would be more variety to them, wouldn't you? I'd like to carry out an intelligent and meaningful conversation with someone other than my brother, for a change. Speaking of Romul... isn't he supposed to be arriving right about now?//  
  
There was a clamor of trumpets blaring, and then a herald quickly announced that "Romul, High Prince and Captain of the Guard, has returned!"  
  
The Princess leaned back on her throne, trying to envision the hall without the crowd. It wasn't too difficult, because the hall had fallen silent. She stood up, and her brother chose that moment to bound down the hall, up the steps of the dais, and envelop her in a bear hug.  
  
"Legala! I'm so glad to be home again. I missed you! What have you gotten up to lately, mischievous one?"  
  
Legala smiled wearily as the noise in the hall escalated to its usual volume once more. "Not much of anything, I'm afraid. Come walk with me for a moment in the gardens, where it is less noisy and I will be able to hear your tales better." Romul smiled sweetly at her, giving her a lopsided grin.  
  
"Of course, my fair one. You're the only maiden to hold my heart!"  
  
Legala tittered. "Oh, do let's be serious, Romul. I'm nowhere near as attractive as the women you've probably managed to ensnare on your travels."  
  
The two walked out onto the balcony, under the light of the moon and stars.  
  
Romul's pointed ears sliced through his windswept blonde hair, which played about his shoulders in the slight breeze. "Ah, yes, well, none of them could ever compare!" After a moment's pause, he cheekily added: "Except for the girl in that inn we stopped by. She was much more understanding and had such open arms..."  
  
Legala choked with laughter. "I am not quite sure that you ought to be discussing such things with me, brother dear! What would adar say?"  
  
"Oh, whatever do you mean?" Romul said innocently. "No one found our activities disturbing except for the people next door!"  
  
The Princess collapsed on a stone bench, giggling harder than ever. After a few moments, she sighed and stopped, looking up at the stars. They were all out tonight, and it was indeed a lovely night. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the moon was full. She rested an alabaster chin on her palm as she stared upwards.  
  
Romul smiled at his sister. She was always daydreaming, sometimes even in the middle of talking. He sat down next to her, tapping her gently on the shoulder. Legala blinked, and then smiled sweetly at him.  
  
"Sorry. You were saying?"  
  
Romul sighed. "Do you ever pay attention?"  
  
Legala pretended to consider it for a moment. "No," she said at last, gifting him with another smile. "No, I don't believe I ever do."  
  
Romul smiled back. "Well, what were you thinking about?"  
  
Legala turned her head back to the stars. "I don't know. Wings, I suppose. I wish I could fly away from here, fly away and never come back..." Her voice had gone low and melancholy. Romul shifted uneasily in his seat.  
  
"Legala, are you happy here?" he tried finally, when she showed no sign of motion. She turned her head, and Romul could see that her eyes were shining. Tears?  
  
"I'm all right, Romul. But so are all pampered girls in the palace. I spend the day bored, doing nothing but embroidery and talking to friends. I am fed, watered, and fawned over by other women and men, even servants. They say I am beautiful, very beautiful.  
  
"But all caged birds are beautiful. However, beautiful birds would be much prettier in the forest where they can breathe, don't you think so?" Legala's voice grew abstract. Her eyes were vacant, looking somewhere other that the world around her.  
  
"I just want to fly. But they keep following me and chasing me and watching me, and they don't even know me..."  
  
"Legala, I don't think I'll ever understand you," Romul sighed gustily, stretching out his legs. "But I do understand most of what you said. You're bored. You want out. You want to be somewhere with someone you can talk to who doesn't rave about how lovely you look. Fine. We can go riding tomorrow. Picnic, if you like. Just the two of us, I promise." He looked over at Legala.  
  
She smiled. "Thank you, Romul. You listen. I would like that very much. I suppose adar will have our heads for avoiding protocol, though. We had best get back, before someone decides they need the royal offspring!" She drifted back into the ballroom, eyes holding a dreamy expression. Romul was right behind her, but even he was separated by the courtiers jostling and pushing, the servants rushing, and the odd noble seeking either of them out.  
  
Legala kept one eye on her brother as she drifted around, well aware that she was being followed. //He's so strong. When he took my arm, he had to concentrate on not hurting me.// She sighed. //I'm so delicate and airy-fairy. I even prefer males. No wonder adar picked me to be the 'girl'.//  
  
A waltz began to play, and a dignitary materialized in front of her, asking her if she would like to dance. Legala smiled cooly. "No, thank you," she said calmly. "I believe I shall be retiring to my rooms for the night, sir."  
  
She wafted away to the staircase, aware of the multiple sets of eyes on her back. She paused. //If I leave the party now, someone will insist they accompany me. But if I stay, I get accosted by a huge number of people. Yet again, someone walking me to bed would be a much more intimate gesture than a mere dance. Oh, what to do, what to do?//  
  
Fortunately, Romul showed up before any would-be suitors began to jostle. He grinned at her. "Well? Going to bed already?"  
  
Legala nodded, and in a low voice, said, "It isn't so much the dancing, but the men who attempt to seize my attention. It gets rather tiresome, you know." Romul laughed aloud.  
  
"Come on then, sleepyhead, I'll walk you to your room!" In the same low voice, he continued, "They were waiting behind that potted plant and at the end of the banister. If you know who they were, tell me and I'll wring their scrawny necks for you."  
  
Legala sighed. "You're so violent, brother."  
  
"And you're a pansy."  
  
The two continued their quiet banter all the way up the stairs and to Legala's door. Giving a short bow, Romul walked away with a small, whispered goodnight.  
  
The door opened soundlessly, and shut behind Legala with a click. She scowled. //I hate these ceremonies. Everyone is so rude.//  
  
She sat at the mirror and began to take her hair out of its buns. Outside the window, a moth flew by.  
  
//Of all the arrogance! Those stupid men aren't the sort that I'd prefer at all. Well, at least I think they aren't... I've never really had a crush on anyone. I don't really know if I'd ever like a girl.//  
  
Hair dealt with, Legala began the task of removing her makeup. When she had finished, she looked into the mirror once more.  
  
Legolas stared back. He sighed and looked down. //Dresses. I have grown to detest them.//  
  
Now that the face powder was off, his skin could breathe again. He quickly took off the dress, and put on a nightgown. No one was allowed to help him dress, not even members of the family. No one could know the secret.  
  
Legolas got into bed, grateful that a servant had put a bedpan into warm the sheets. He hoped, desperately, that he was not the only one who knew that secret anymore. He hoped that his father remembered.  
  
All he really wanted was for someone he could be himself around. Not the Princess Legala, just- Legolas.  
  
The elf that wasn't supposed to exist.  
  
*****tbc*****  
A/N: Lol, you'll notice that they don't refer to their father as ada. They call him adar. "Father" not "Daddy". Hmmm! Wonder what that means, eh?  
Review Please! 


	3. Moth Princess

A/n: Chapter Three!!! YAAAAAAY!  
  
Disclaimer: *see first chapter*  
  
Chapter Three: Moth Princess  
  
******************************************************************  
(Legolas's PoV, dream)  
  
The powder is on the wings of the moth. It beats against my face, soft wings sending shudders down my spine, for I can see its huge, furry, white body bulging over me. It is as big as I am, perhaps bigger.  
  
The white powder cakes on my skin like a layer of dust, settling and sticking like chalk dust. I am in a silver-grey shining gown, my hair is powdered and is a grey pewter color, and it is held in a silver net of flowers. My skin is whiter than the powder. It is nearly luminescent.  
  
I am a Moth Princess. The courtiers, the nobles, and the lords and ladies all see me and laugh at me, calling it out. I flush in shame, and I realize that I have ugly silver-furred moth wings, and suddenly I am running, running through the air to get away.  
  
I come upon a glen, and the entire clearing is filled with silver, grey, and brown moths. They have the bodies of humans. They are wearing beautiful clothing, and their wings do not hinder them at all. They welcome me, and soon insist that I dance. I oblige, and the music is a frenzy. I dance and dance until my slippers are worn through and my balance is failing me, and I am tired as death. Sweat soaks the powder, weighing me down, and I am dizzy.  
  
But then the White Moth who powdered my face appears in front of me, and he asks me to dance with him. And I blush, and I nod, and he takes me in his arms and we dance slowly, which is the way I want it to be.  
  
And the White Moth leads me away from the glen, and we wander into a small, secluded clearing, where the trees hang over the bench and the grass in thick and springy underneath my weary feet. They hurt.  
  
We sit down, and the White Moth holds me in his arms, and he is warm. And his mouth meets mine, and his mouth fits mine perfectly. And we become one, and we need no words because there are none.  
  
(Leggy, waking)  
  
Legolas woke up groggily, and looked out of the high arched windows. They were letting in the sunlight, which played with his hair and warmed his skin. He sat up. There was a white gown with pale blue embroidery laid out upon a chair for him, with a petticoat and a lace bonnet, and a pair of stockings and boots. He sighed,  
  
Legolas remembered his dream of the night before, and grimaced. //Even in my dreams, I'm a princess,// he grumbled to himself. He paused. //It was a very nice dream, though,// he thought, with a small blush creeping over his cheeks. //Especially the White Moth...//  
  
Before a servant could look in on him, Legolas undressed and put on the petticoat. He then began to lace up his corset, not too tightly, for he would need breathing room for riding. The dress came next, and he laced up the back of it without too much difficulty. The hard part was the hair.  
  
Legolas remembered that it was Mali's day off, and sighed. He put his hair up with a few pins, and prayed that it would hold while he slipped the bonnet on over it. He breathed a sigh of relief. It worked.  
  
Walking down the servant's staircase to the kitchen, the Princess nearly walked into Romul. She smiled. "Good morning, brother-"  
  
"Shh!" Romul said, a look of urgency in his eyes. He grabbed her arm, and led her out to the stables, hiding every once in a while to wait for a servant to pass. He said not a single word while they were walking, or even while they were gearing their horses. It was only when the two had reached an isolated picnic area that Romul breathed a sigh of relief and began to explain.  
  
"I'm sorry about all this," he said sheepishly. Legala glared at him.  
  
"Why are you acting so strangely? What is going on?" she demanded impatiently. Romul held a hand up.  
  
"Peace. Let me speak. I brought you out with such secrecy because it was necessary. I couldn't let adar see you."  
  
"... why not?"  
  
"He has gotten it into his head to marry you, and they are sending Lothlorien delegates over tomorrow. You may have to be with one of them, if adar gets his way."  
  
Legala jumped to her feet. "I'll kill him!" she yelled angrily. Romul rolled his eyes.  
  
"And that's why I had to bring you so far out. Here, you'll feel better after you've eaten some breakfast." Legala took a chunk of bread and cheese and tore into it viciously, in a foul mood.  
  
//What is adar thinking?!//  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Legolas waited outside of the audience chamber, slightly more collected than he had been when Romul told him the news. Slightly. He still felt like jumping up on the dais, running over to the throne, and strangling his adar.  
  
A few minutes passed, and Legolas began to pace the floor, praying that Thranduil remembered that he wasn't a princess. //Or else, all is lost, and I will have to die to save the honor of this country. Can you imagine what the gossip would be like if it got out I was a boy? Mirkwood would be shamed for an age!//  
  
Still pacing, Legolas began to think harder. //I wonder, though, why Lorien is sending delegates now? They've always been so stuck-up, and they say that Lorien is completely self-sufficient. They even refuse alliances with Mirkwood and Rivendell! So, why? Unless...//  
  
//Maybe they aren't as secure as they would like us to believe.// Legolas went over to a chest of maps, and sifted through them until he found a map of all of the countries. He paused, and bent over it.  
  
//Lorien itself cannot be under attack. The spell of the Lady will keep all intruders from finding Caras Galadhon. Or... does it? They have had no official colonies for the past few centuries! It has to be Lorien. All right then. Lorien itself is experiencing trouble. But where would trouble come...?// His fingers traced the map in front of him, and he frowned.  
  
//There are three ways, disregarding the paths through the woods. And obviously, trouble would only come through the woods if it was a very small group. Ergo, they came via water. Which means, either the Celebrant, the Nimrodel, or the Great River Anduin. Let me see... the only way to acess the Nimrodel, of course, would be through the mountains. So that is an implausible attack entrance. Scratch Nimrodel.// He frowned.  
  
//And anything coming from north on the Anduin would pass by Mirkwood. South on the Anduin, however... I suppose an enemy could come from Emyn Muil, but if it were from Mordor, it would have to pass over the Falls of Rauros! Which leaves... the Celebrant...//  
  
//The Celebrant runs almost directly from Dimrill Dale. Which means that there is an enemy there.// Legolas stood up, pleased with himself, but puzzled. //Dimrill Dale... that is a foolhardy place to station your troops. It is easily bottlenecked, and all one would need to stopper them in there would be enough soldiers.// Legolas's face lit up and shone like the lamps. Of course! Lorien needed allies, at last, not because they were weak, but because there simply weren't enough battle-hardened soldiers to close in the enemies at Dimrill.  
  
Legolas grinned, proud of his work. As he looked at the setting sun, however, he remembered why he was here. With a small yelp, he strode hurridly into the throne room, face flushed. His father was sitting on the dais, and before him were a group of Imladris Elves. Legolas silenced himself immediately, and waited for his blush to fade underneath the powder he had put on. //At least the damned stuff is good for one thing.// Then he walked around the side, close to the wall, and sat in his usual place beside his adar, his long skirts settling with the faintest rustle.  
  
It took him only a few moments to realize that they were discussing the actions of the Lorien Elves and wondering why they were requesting aid. Legolas hid a grin. "Adar, may I please speak?" he asked in a lull in the debate. Thranduil nodded, and all eyes were turned toward him.  
  
Legolas quickly explained what he had discovered, in as few words as possible. It made sense, after all. His father nodded, and gave him a pleased smile. "Very sensible theory, Legala. You are a pride as a daughter."  
  
Legolas searched Thranduil's face, but there was no sign of recognition. He sighed softly. No. Thranduil did not remember.  
  
The rest of the meeting carried on swiftly, and was concluded likeso. As the Imladris Elves left, Legolas caught one of them, most likely Elledan, staring at him. Legolas stared icily at him until he dropped his gaze, and walked out.  
  
Legolas excused himself, and angrily slammed the door of his room behind him as he entered it. //Stupid Elf! You never stick up for yourself. Now you've gone and figured out adar's problem for him, so he can barter you off to the Lorien bastard all the sooner!//  
  
Legolas sat at his window sadly, watching the rain fall lightly on the panes. His eyes were grey. //But maybe he already knew. After all, a marriage is the perfect way to cement an alliance. Mad or not, adar is a brilliant tactician.//  
  
Resigned to fate, Legolas stared sadly out the window, wishing that he had the nerve to kill himself before the Lorien delegates arrived. Somehow, he knew that he wouldn't do it now. His thoughts wandered, and before he knew it, he had wandered off into the comfort of his dream of the white moth and of flying away from everything, until no one but himself and the white moth were left.  
  
Unbeknownst to Legolas, Mari crept into the room and put him to bed, clothes on, spreading a thin blanket over him.  
  
Later on, Legolas woke up, and wondered why he was still breathing.  
  
Outside, the rain fell steadily, soaking everything, and washing away all the anger and the pain. Legolas got up, and walked over to the window. He put his hand up against it, and smiled. The glass was so cold.  
  
He opened the window. A gust of cold air and rain blew into the room. It soaked him in minutes, dampening his hair and drenching his dress so it hung limply from him. He sighed, feeling the rain wash away the powder and the tears that spilled out of his eyes.  
  
Legolas stepped out of the window and onto the sill. His feet were bare and they looked white and pale against the marble. Legolas shivered. Cold. He let his arms drop to his sides, and let his hair fall into his face, wet and stringy. It looked like pewter when it got wet, like in his dream.  
  
The trees were swaying gently in the wind. Legolas wondered whether or not he should jump. Behind him, his door banged open. His brother was in the room. But Legolas didn't hear him. He was looking down, at the small party of elves who had arrived. They were all cloaked, but their colors said were from Lorien. Legolas looked up and frowned. //How long did I sleep?// he wondered abstractly, frowning. One of the elves looked up and saw him. Legolas watched him. The two stared at each other for a few minutes, and then the Elf said something that was lost in the roar of the rainstorm.  
  
Then Legolas fell, plummeting towards the ground.  
  
His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to scream silently. But then the air was knocked out of him, and he felt a pair of warm hands pulling him up and sitting him gently on the sill. As if from a distance, he heard Romul's voice. Legolas sighed listlessly and looked back towards the Elf. He raised a feeble hand to wave, and cursed himself. His attempt to die had failed. All honor was lost.  
  
Romul's voice echoed in his ears as the Lorien Elf waved back, and then spurred his horse onwards to catch up with his fellows. Finally he turned his attention back to Romul.  
  
"- could have been killed! You're on the second story-"  
  
Legolas put a hand up to his brother's lips. "I'm okay," he said in a flat voice. "Romul, I have to tell you something. Our mother died when we were born. She gave birth to twins." Romul sighed, and glared at him.  
  
"That doesn't explain why you-"  
  
"Twin sons."  
  
Romul stared at him in silence for a few moments, and then began to laugh. Legolas turned his head to stop the tears from showing. "You don't believe me," he said sadly.  
  
Romul grinned. "You? A boy? That, Legala, is simply ludicrous. Why,"  
  
"My name is Legolas!" Legolas snapped. Romul fell silent again.  
  
"You're not serious," he said after a pause. Legolas stared at him, until he looked away. "You can't be," he mumbled. Legolas nodded.  
  
"Yes I can."  
  
"But-"  
  
"But nothing. Romul, I'm a boy, and no amount of clothing or makeup will ever hide that."  
  
Romul stared at him flatly. "No," he said in a calm voice. "You are not. And that, Legala, is all we are going to say on this subject. Good morning, sister. I hope you are ready to meet your husband when you are introduced." He turned towards the door.  
  
Legolas snarled. "Stop right there!" he yelled at Romul. Romul turned.  
  
"Yes, Legala?" he asked patiently. Legolas stared at him, and tears began to spill out of his eyes. //It's no use. He will not believe me, no matter what I do or say.//  
  
Instead, Legolas dropped his gaze and fell forwards into Romul, wrapping his arms around his taller, stronger, and more narrowminded brother. "I'm sorry," he said, sniffing. Romul patted his head reassuringly.  
  
"It's all right. Was this about marrying the Lorien Elf?" Legolas nodded reluctantly. In a way, it was...  
  
"Don't worry, Legala," he said, hugging her back. "Don't worry. I'll make sure that none of them hurt you, ever. And the Elf that marries you will have to have my approval, that's a guarantee. You can always request that you have different delegates sent, you know." Legolas looked up at Romul in suprise.  
  
"Since when do you know how to comfort a crying girl?" Romul grinned, and kissed his cheek.  
  
"Since I was born, Legala, since I was born!" Legolas smiled through his tears.  
  
//Well, I suppose marrying a girl would be worse. At least I get to marry my gender preference. Fact is, I really would like to marry a man...//  
  
//But would a man ever want to marry me? I'm not really a girl!//  
  
Legolas buried his face in his brother's chest. "Okay," he said hesitantly. "I can believe that."  
  
Romul smiled. "I promise you, it'll be okay," he said in a reassuring voice. Legolas smiled back.  
  
//I wish I had your confidence.//  
  
*****tbc*****  
A/n: Ho ho ho!!!! Next chapter: Haldir vs. Romul!!!! BANG CRASH CRASH! ^^. And our dear Legolas gets to meet his husband-to-be, as well! (can anyone guess who he marries? hm, tough one...)  
Muse: Well, duh, he marries Haldir.  
Shush!  
Muse: *rolls eyes* They already know, dumbo.  
Oh. Well, it is my latest favorite pairing and all... heh.  
Muse: 


	4. Beautiful

A/n: My muses are joining up and pushing for the story. They're clamouring!!! AAAIIIIIIEEEEE!!!! THE CLAMOUR!!!!!!! *faints* *wakes up* Ehehehehee... well.... er.... yea. *grins stupidly* Love me anyways? Lol.  
Ach, baisically, my muses are working when I have long weekends. *glares at muses* Grr... Well, they were hibernating before, so I'm glad to have them back. *hugs her muses* The story of how we met is in Labyrinth.  
Muse: *hugs Larien* We would never abandon you permanantly, Larien. We were just vacationing from Rose's Bloom once we finished it!!!  
Me: ... that's no excuse...  
Muse: :P  
Me: Oi!  
Well, without further ado, here's the popular story you all know and love... Intrigue!!! *as if.*  
  
Disclaimer: I want it. I don't have it. That's my life, right there.  
  
Chapter Four: Beautiful  
  
Legolas climbed the last few stairs at a run. He was wearing his least favorite color today, and not out of choice. He wrinkled his nose. Ick. Pink. At least it was pale pink, and not too bright and cheery.  
  
He walked sedately along the corridor of the third floor, to the head of the main stairs. He was supposed to wait here. //Adar said that I was to be powdered, even my hair. It is pewter colored, again. It is pretty this way, but I wonder if any of the delegates knows my real hair color?// He sighed heavily. //And my skin is paler than flour.//  
  
He waited serenely at the head of the stairs, his white-pink dress swaying only the tiniest bit. His hair was pulled back from his face, and it was cascading down his back in sausage-roll curls.  
  
His brother appeared by his side. Legolas let out the breath he did not know he had been holding, and smiled at him. Romul winked back at him cheekily.  
  
The booming voice of their adar rolled up the stairs and met their ears. He had begun to bring the delegates up the long, spiralling stairway. "Welcome, delegates from Lorien. How was your journey, may I ask?"  
  
A softer voice made a reply, and Legolas closed his eyes, praying that by some freak chance the delegates would be women, and Romul would have to be the one to choose. But as they came into view, that hope went out like a light.  
  
They were three in number. The first two, Legolas did not know, but the third was the rider who saw him fall. He allowed the briefest flash of recognition to flare in his eyes. The elf did the same, and a small smile passed between them. It was, unfortunately, brief.  
  
The trio were paying little attention to him, the princess. It was clear to him that they were not interested in looking for a wife at the moment. Instead, they were picking over the details of the Prince's face. Legolas spared a brief glance at Romul, and was relieved to see that he was holding up under their scrutiny. He looked every inch the Prince, clothed in a deep and mysterious black, which was, like his own, gilded with silver.  
  
In the following half-hour, Legolas learned that the elf he had waved to was named Haldir, and from the way he acted, he was probably the one that Legolas was intended to choose. Legolas raised a mental eyebrow. The other two, Rumil and Orophin, were his brothers. They didn't seem too close, for brothers. Legolas guessed it was because they lived apart, and had different professions. Haldir was a Marchwarden, Orophin was one of Galadriel's commanding officers, and Rumil was the Seneschal. Each of them were highly appropriate as husbands.  
  
Then began his own scrutiny, and he realized that Rumil and Orophin looked as though they were sorry they were not Haldir. They were thinking thoughts that many had before, and Legolas knew suddenly and clearly that he was going to pick Haldir, whether the older two were higher in status or not.  
  
//I know their thoughts. I can see it in their eyes. All I am to them is a thing. A possession to be had and used and called "wife" only as a formality. They would never see me as their equal. But with Haldir, I sense hope. I can only pray that he is trustworthy.//  
  
Legolas's feet ached when they were finally dismissed. //I suppose I am thinking too far ahead. First, of course, they must ask for aid. And adar will have to suggest the alliance. Then they must pretend to dicuss this with the Lady Galadriel. Then the alliance-marriage will take place, and what luck, Thranduil has a daughter. Then, the troops will be sent over. I will have to go with them, I suppose. It will be hard, I think, to keep secrecy in Lorien. But of course, Haldir will have to protect me as my husband... thinking ahead again!//  
  
He walked slowly down the stairs with Haldir to his left, and Orophin to his right. Romul was talking with the third brother, Rumil, which struck Legolas as being funny. Romul, Rumil... well, their names were incredibly similar. He smiled, and politely ignored Orophin, turning his head to Haldir.  
  
Haldir looked nervous, and Legolas couldn't help feeling sorry for him. After all, he was talking to a princess, probably for the first time. Pity must have shown in his eyes, because Haldir stiffened and looked away, pointedly. Legolas sighed. This was not going well.  
  
He had an idea. Quickly, he turned to Orophin, and smiled his sweetest smile. "Orophin, would you like to speak with your brother? I'm afraid I might be in the way." Orophin opened his mouth, and then closed it. Obviously, Legolas was trying to politely leave. He smiled with a pained expression.  
  
"Thank you for your courtesy, Princess Legala." Legolas gave a mental cheer. Now for the part where he did a confusing thing. Instead of leaving, he simply walked around Haldir so that Haldir was in the middle. Orophin looked a bit confused, and then sheepish.  
  
Legolas cackled inside. //Ho ho ho. Score one for letting Orophin know he isn't wanted, and score two for making him wrack his brain, searching for the rules of protocol. Probably an extra half point for making him wonder whether the rules are completely different here. It appears to me that I am winning.//  
  
Haldir looked cooly at him. He smiled genuinely this time, and wrapped his arm around Haldir's. //Well, Orophin, I think this about as clear a message as I can give that I want you to leave. Think fast, boy.//  
  
Orophin smiled again. "Of course, I would like to speak with my brother. I take my leave, Your Highness." He walked back to where Rumil and Romul were conversing. Legolas blinked. //Wow. Points for finding the loophole, Orophin. But I'm still better at this than you.//  
  
Haldir looked icily at him. "Yes, milady?" Legolas was thrown off guard. //Huh? Ice? What just happened?//  
  
"I apologize for getting rid of your sibling, Haldir, but he was having less than appropriate thoughts. I do not wish to become acquainted with people who do not view me as a person," Legolas said in cool tone.  
  
Haldir blinked, and then laughed softly. "That is the sort of thing Orophin would do, isn't it? I see," he said softly. He looked at him again, this time without the coldness. "I suppose I wouldn't want a man thinking that way about me either." His voice was soft. Legolas felt a surge of emotions coming from the Elf beside him. Sadness, anger, hurt, and resignation...  
  
Legolas paused, and whispered back. "You suppose?"  
  
Haldir whipped around and glared at him. "Do not trouble yourself, Princess. My worries are not your concern. I was sent here to be married to you for an alliance-"  
  
"I know," Legolas interrupted. "I was the one who figured that out."  
  
Haldir smiled without humor. "Then you, of all people, should know that my feelings do not matter. Neither do yours, as hard as that may be to grasp. We are pawns in this game, Legala. We cannot make our own choices."  
  
Legolas stared after him as he strode away, wishing that he had something to say. But he could think of nothing. Only...  
  
//Damn the secrets. Damn them. I can't gain his trust while he thinks of me as a girl, and I cannot tell him I am a man if I do not have his trust. We are at an impasse.// He walked after Haldir, a bit in a daze. He didn't know what to think.  
  
//I hope that he isn't too mad at me when he finds out. On our wedding night, he'll have to.//  
  
Legolas shrugged. Well, for a lifetime partner, Haldir wasn't so bad. He just thought he was marrying a strange princess. Although he would have loved to correct the mistake, it was not an option. Politically, it would be impossible. Practically, it would be illogical. But emotionally, and physically, it was necessary. //I can never escape paradox, can I?//  
  
Legolas walked into his room and shut the door behind him, not caring about protocol for once. He had to think.  
  
//Haldir. He makes me sad. He makes me feel like crying. He also makes me feel like I have never seen the world the way it was meant to be seen. Love could not be possible at first sight. It would also not be practical to love him before he knew I was a male... I wonder... did he leave a love behind? Does he even like men? Does he hate me?//  
  
Legolas sighed, and began to comb his long hair out. //He's so vague... I wish I knew what he was thinking.// He smiled. //Dummy. Don't waste time on wishes. You can wish the day away, but it will do no good. You could wish that you had been raised as the prince, for Eru's sake! That will not make it happen.//  
  
Legolas changed out of his pink dress and into a lovely red brocade, with black lace in a flower trimming. He had made it himself. It looked all right on him, but what he really wanted to make was a pair of leggings and a tunic. //I don't think I've ever worn leggings.//  
  
Legolas looked at himself in the mirror, and sighed. The powder had been wiped out of his hair. He looked a bit mismatched. //No,// he decided. //As long as Mari is out, I will be wearing something I can wear my hair down in.//  
  
Legolas rummaged his way into his gigantic closet, something he didn't do often, looking at dresses he hadn't even known he had. //Wow... That's a pretty one...// He came across a pale yellow dress, that had the feel of mist over flowers to it. He blinked. //Why haven't I worn this yet? Rather, why haven't I seen it?//  
  
As he wandered farther into his closet, he came upon dresses that were more and more old fashioned. Legolas sniffed. They smelled like honeysuckle, a favorite flower of butterflies... Eilphdi...  
  
//That was the name of my mother. These were my mother's dresses. So this is what she was like.//  
  
The dresses were all stunningly beautiful. They were elegant. They were light and shimmering and somehow, they were sad. Legolas remembered his father saying that Eilphdi had made all her own dresses. //Did she know she was going to die?//  
  
Legolas's eyes widened as he came to the back of the room. Behind all of the dresses and the shoes and the petticoats, there was a chest of drawers. He walked over to one, and pulled it open. There was another dress inside. This one was different.  
  
It was simple, plain, and obviously handmade. But it was just as pretty as the others. It was blue, with a long collar crocheted on made of white wool. Its sleeves were short, and there were long cuffs of the same lace on it. Beneath it was a petticoat, with a lace hem.  
  
Inside the other drawers, there were simple objects. Gloves, stockings, a pair of nail scissors... Legolas took out the dress. A note slipped out. He picked it up. :For my darling daughter, when she finds it. I hope you grow into it.: Legolas leaned against the wall and held up the dress. He smiled sadly.  
  
It was exactly his size right now. //I suppose Eilphdi was expecting to die. And I suppose she wanted a daughter. She had wanted a real daughter. A real daughter would have looked at all of her old dresses as soon as she could walk.// Legolas sighed, and two tears slipped out of his eyes.  
  
//I'm not her daughter. I'm not what she wanted. She would have been so disappointed to find twin sons when she woke up.// Legolas sighed, and looked at the dress again. //But she would have loved me anyway. And I can wear the dress. I don't think mother would have minded.//  
  
Legolas smiled. The dress was perfect for informality. It was full of childlike innocence. //All right, I'll wear it tomorrow. I have a ball to attend today. But first...//  
  
He slipped on a blue dress of his own. //I should ask adar if I can wear her dresses! He might not want me to.//  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
*****tbc*****  
A/n: Woot. Reviews please. *shakes her little collection tin* 


	5. Dressed to Kill

A/n: Woot!!!!!!! Read. Review. Make my day. *goes off humming*  
  
Disclaimer: Nope. Christopher Tolkien does, though.  
  
Chapter Five: Dressed to Kill  
  
Legolas walked back into his room, having obtained permission, and walked back into the closet. //Huh. I'm much more calm, now. I guess my mother's scent did that.// He grinned in the direction of the chest. //Thanks, mom!//  
  
In the end, Legolas chose a silver and blue dress. The blue was chiffon, smooth and flared in the skirt. It was deep, the color of a clear sapphire, or the deepest part of the sky. The silver emroidery was stitched in the shape of roses around the hem, large and beautiful. It was strapless, and around the top were silver stars.  
  
About his neck was a choker. It was silver, with a cobalt gem carved into the shape of a rose hanging down from it. He used a simple clasp to pull his hair back, that was silver. Then, he applied the dreaded powder, and sat back to see the effect.  
  
His brows raised. //I can't believe I did this myself.//  
  
His hair was its normal color, a beautiful gold. He looked like a queen. //Luckily I did not inherit mother's eyes, or I would look a bit hawklike. Hers were golden, I can tell from the portrait hanging in the hall.// His hands clutched at his choker.  
  
//And I think she was wearing this same dress.//  
  
Legolas walked out into the hall, concious of his appearance. The portrait of his mother hung in the guest hall, so he could make the excuse of seeing Haldir to the celebration downstairs.  
  
Standing in the corridor on the landing, Legolas looked, trembling, at the portrait. But for their eyes, they could have been the same person. Eilphdi was sitting in a field with flowers growing beside her, in a million hues. Her golden hair was pulled back in a clasp, slightly pewter from constant powdering. Her eyes were honey-colored, like the eyes of an eagle. Her lips were small and a soft pink. And she was wearing this dress.  
  
"What, Princess, gazing at your own portrait?" came an amused voice behind him. Legolas turned slowly to face Haldir.  
  
"No," he whispered softly. "Just came to see you down to dinner."  
  
Haldir snorted cynically. "Right." Legolas sighed, and looked back at Eilphdi. She was smiling at the artist, but it had been his favorite game when he was little to sit in front of the portrait and pretend that his mother was smiling at him.  
  
After a while, Haldir grew impatient and coughed quietly. Legolas sighed. "She really was beautiful, wasn't she?" he asked softly. Haldr nodded, rolling his eyes, then his expression grew thoughtful.  
  
" 'She' ?"  
  
Legolas nodded. "Look at her eyes."  
  
Haldir peered closely at the portrait in the dimmed light. He started. "They're like hawkeyes. Yours are blue, like your dress." He turned to Legolas.  
  
"Who was she?" he asked curiously. Legolas smiled.  
  
"The Queen. My mother."  
  
Haldir looked intently at the portrait. "Her eyes don't match the dress," he said after a while. Legolas frowned. Haldir continued. "Your eyes do. The dress looks better on you."  
  
Legolas smiled genuinely at Haldir. "I accept your apology," he said cheerfully. Haldir reddened, and looked away.  
  
"It wasn't an apology. Stop doing things like that." Legolas sighed, and let his eyes drop. It seemed that Haldir didn't really want to like him. Or, Princess Legala.  
  
//I wish that we got along better.//  
  
Legolas shrugged, and took Haldir's offered arm. They began to walk down the stairs. "So," said Haldir. "What are your motives for bringing me to dinner and the ball?" Legolas shrugged.  
  
"We're going to have an alliance-marriage eventually. Being seen together will increase the popularity of our match. That way, there will be no public grief at letting me leave Mirkwood. The people will have the impression in the back of their heads that we are in love with each other, and they won't be against the idea of letting their dear princess go off in the hands of a Noldor." Haldir looked at him.  
  
Legolas grinned. "I AM popular, you know." Haldir laughed. And it was not a mean laugh, which Legolas would have expected.  
  
"Also, there is no way I will be seen with one of your brothers. I do not want to have the slightest doubt present in anyone's mind that I could possibly choose anyone other than you." Haldir growled.  
  
"Why me?" he said in a suffering voice. Legolas smiled.  
  
"I suppose because your brothers want me for my body, but you would only ever want me for my personality." Haldir looked up at the Princess and smiled wryly.  
  
"Well, most princesses are stuck-up and don't have two brain cells to rub together. You can't blame them." Legolas frowned.  
  
"Why do you always defend them? I can sense an animosity between the two of them and you." Haldir leaned close to her.  
  
"That," he said in a dangerous voice, "is none of your business, Legala. I suggest you keep your prying nose out of my family affairs."  
  
Legolas stared at him in suprise, and a bit of shock. //Oh, hell. He's the best of the three of them, and he prefers males. I know I won't get another chance like him in a century. But why does he have to be so cold? I was just trying to get to know him.//  
  
Haldir hooked his arm stiffly under Legolas's, and the two of them walked sedately into the greater hall. Rumil and Orophin were already there, As soon as the pair walked into the room, a murmer of gossip spread out from where they stood. Legolas smiled serenely, and was whisked away from Haldir's side by a trio of his closest friends.  
  
Lourie giggled. "Don't tell me that's the Lorien delegate!" Legolas nodded, and Clara and Gireth gasped.  
  
Clara winked. "He's the most handsome, I'll warrant you that!" Gireth nodded wistfully. Then she grinned.  
  
"But his brothers are much more entertaining than he appears to be!"  
  
Princess Legala frowned. "He will most likely be married to me, for the alliance-marriage. His name is Haldir. But you must not breathe a word of the marriage to anyone. All right? You may only tell Liset, when she has recovered from her cold." The trio nodded reluctantly. Then they went off on a gossip discussing the two older brothers. Across the hall, the three brothers were becoming acquainted with the hunting stories and the myths of the younger warriors their own age.  
  
Haldir looked patently bored with his situation. Legolas snapped open his fan, and held it in front of his face, fanning a little. His corset made it a little hard to breathe in the crowded hall. Haldir's eyes met his. Legolas looked away first.  
  
It grew late. Legolas wandered out of the hall, as many of the couples were doing. He hated the parties like this. From the looks of things, Haldir did too. Maybe he could find Haldir and have some talk that wasn't totally idiotic.  
  
After searching for several minutes, Legolas gave up. Haldir had probably gone back to his rooms.  
  
He wandered down the path, and took a trail that was not commonly used. It led to an old trysting-spot, and it was nearly overgrown with the plants. He liked to come there when he needed to think. The honeysuckle grew here, and as he breathed in its scent, he neared the entrance.  
  
There was noise up ahead. Legolas paused, and a dark premonition made his skin tingle. He silently peered around the corner, and gasped quietly.  
  
Haldir was there, and he was not alone. He was most certainly not alone.  
  
Legolas walked away, numb as ice, leaving the two Elves behind him to continue their idle play. He felt tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, and he let them spill, not caring.  
  
//It's okay. Haldir can't be serious with that Elf. He is practically bound to me. He would like me if he knew I was a male. He is just trysting. Just playing. He's just bored.// Legolas walked into a section of the forest that was dark and uninhabited by any couples. He sat down on a fallen log, and let himself cry.  
  
//Bored with me.//  
  
Legolas sniffed, and wiped away his tears. //Well then. He must not be bored with me if we are to be married. I must give him a reason to stay away from the other elves and focus on me.//  
  
//But how can I do that without betraying my secret?//  
  
Legolas sighed hopelessly. //I can't. All I have are my wits and my company.//  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Legolas dressed in the dress his mother made for him that morning, and let Mari put his hair in a twist bun. He wore a corset, as usual. The sash of the dress was tafetta, and puffed out when it was tied in a bow.  
  
He was wearing a silver circlet on his brow. It was set with blue stones. It complemented his outfit nicely. He was standing at the window, watching the outside world. Slowly, he turned towards Haldir, who had been waiting for a few minutes. "Yes?" he asked in a calculated voice. It was neither happy nor sad.  
  
Haldir shrugged. "Well, as you said, we ought to be seen spending time together. I believe you meant it." Legolas nodded briefly.  
  
"Would you like to ride out with me?" he asked in a low voice. Haldir smiled politely.  
  
"Certainly, my lady. I was not given duties, only told to accompany you where you went. My brothers are the negotiators, not I."  
  
Legolas nodded again. Haldir held out his arm, and the pair ambled leisurely down the stairway and into the stables. A hand saw them, and waved at Legolas. "Just a minute, Princess. Which today, the warsteed or the palfrey mare?" Legolas gave a small smile, and inclined his head towards Haldir.  
  
"You can decide. What did you have in mind, Haldir?" he asked quietly. Haldir looked a bit amazed that "she" had a battlesteed.  
  
"I would like to get to know the place better before I race you, Legala," he said at last with finesse. "I think we had better take palfreys, so you can spend less of your time keeping your horse calmed and more time explaining things to me." Legolas nodded.  
  
"The palfrey then." The stablehand disappeared into the stalls, and brought out two palfrey mares, a grey and a chestnut, walking them gently over to the two Elves.  
  
Legolas mounted his grey's sidesaddle gracefully, and waited calmly for Haldir to mount himself. Then, with a whisper of Sindarin to his mare, he urged the horses onwards.  
  
They travelled through the forest, seeing the occasional flet. Legolas briefly explained each of the homes, and who lived there. Haldir would nod and smile, and they were both almost overly-pleasant to each other until they were completely away from any others. They had reached an open clearing with a small waterfall.  
  
Legolas dismounted and sat stiffly on a rock. Haldir sat cross- legged in front of him. They both stared at each other awkwardly. Finally Legolas cleared his throat.  
  
"Haldir, did you make a visit of the palace grounds? You did? Ah. Did you by any chance come across a trysting spot? It is quite apart from the rest of the world. It is almost impossible to find, as you must take an old path through the forest to get to it. It is also nearly grown over." Legolas spoke in a flat voice, watching Haldir cooly.  
  
Haldir paled.  
  
Legolas smiled. "That is where I like to go, after balls and festivals," he continued mercilessly. "Have you seen it?" Haldir was at a loss for words. A silence stretched in front of them, punctuated only by rushing of the waterfall and the birds singing. Finally Legolas took mercy upon him.  
  
"Haldir, I know you don't like me," he said in a soft voice. "But you're not even trying. Why?" Haldir looked up at him and sighed.  
  
"Because there is no hope for us to have love in a marriage. There would be no point. You are beautiful, charming, and smart, and I like you as a person, but I would never want to be with you that way." He looked up at Legolas cooly.  
  
"You would prefer that I was male?"  
  
"Legala, if you were a male, Lorien would be attempting an alliance with Imladris. This would not be happening."  
  
"But still..."  
  
Haldir looked away. "I suppose," he said softly. "I can't help liking you, even if you are a girl." Legolas looked at the ground with a small sigh. //But I'm not.// The two sat in silence, each thinking their own thoughts. After a while, Haldir spoke up again.  
  
"When I first saw you... why were you trying to jump?"  
  
*****tbc*****  
A/n: Ho ho ho... I'm evviiiiil! WOOOOOOOT! 


	6. A Necklace

A/n: Wheee. I decided I had tortured you all enough and y'all needed something for an early New Year's. Volia!  
  
Disclaimer: .... *sobs hysterically* Leave me alone! You've taken my friends, my family, my hopes and dreams... what more do you want?! You're not satisfied with the fact that I don't own it, you have to come to my house and RUB IT IN. *takes out a shotgun and looks crazed* I'll teach you to leave me alone! WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!!!  
  
Chapter Six: A Necklace  
  
Haldir looked back over at Legolas.  
  
Legolas smiled. "I was trying to die. I didn't want to be married to someone I could never love. But I think I wouldn't mind at all if that person I had to marry was you. My brother caught me. I didn't want him to. For a moment, falling had felt like flying." He looked into the water. "And all I wanted was to fly away."  
  
Haldir looked into the water as well. "I thought you were stupid, maybe crazy. I thought you had just slipped." He looked at his reflection. "But you don't seem like the type to do that, now that I've met you. Are you sure there isn't another reason?" Legolas smiled at him.  
  
"I'll tell you in a while. After we've married. All right?" Haldir nodded slowly with resignation. The two sat there until the sun had grown directly overhead. Legolas walked back over to his horse, and got out the picnic basket and a parasol. His skin was sensitive, and he didn't want to get a sunburn.  
  
Haldir spread out the meal, and they ate in silence. After a while, a bird flew down and landed on the grass next to them. Legolas tossed it a crust of bread. It chirped and flew away.  
  
Haldir leaned back, a bored expression on his face, and took out a book. Legolas frowned, and then decided that he wanted to get wet. He pulled off his riding boots and his stockings, and luckily for him his skirt was not a long one. He waded into the water, and began to splash around, looking for something interesting. Haldir put down his book and gazed bemusedly at the sight of the Princess, wading around like a small child.  
  
Legolas turned to Haldir and stuck out his tongue. Haldir leapt to his feet, and growled, rolling up his leggings and sleeves and removing his shoes. He waded into the pool, and stood there triumphantly. Legolas giggled. But then a shining object underwater caught his eye. He peered closer. It looked like a necklace. He put his hand into the water, but withdrew it when he realized that his sleeves were too long and would get wet.  
  
Legolas frowned, and began to feel about with his toes, trying to grasp it.  
  
Haldir rolled his eyes, and walked over. He reached down, and after a few fumbles, he grasped the necklace in his hands. He slowly brought it back up to the surface. Legolas smiled at him. "Thank you. Adar would have eaten my head off if I messed up my dress." Haldir nodded, and handed it over.  
  
"Does it look familiar?" he asked as Legolas turned it over in his hande. He shook his head. It was a locket. He looked at the clasp, and with a little difficulty pried it open. It had been a dwarven locket, and it was airtight. No water had gotten into it. Unfortunately, the locket was empty. He held it in Haldir's direction.  
  
"Do you want it?" he asked. Haldir took it, and then gestured for Legolas to turn around. Legolas waited patiently as Haldir affixed the locket around his neck. Then Legolas looked into the water at his reflection.  
  
//Not too bad.// He smiled at Haldir. The two of them walked out of the water, and began to pack up the basket again. Overhead, the blue sky swam with clouds, and the birds sang.  
  
Once he had re-entered the palace and taken his leave of Haldir, Legolas went straight to the audience chamber and listened at the door. It sounded as though they had just started their business.  
  
Legolas realized that he was not dressed appropriately to appear in the court, and cursed underneath his breath. He did not want to miss a moment of this. Instead, he simply opened the door a crack, and let the voices drift over his head.  
  
"Lorien would like to send its humblest regards to the kingdom of Thranduil in Mirkwood or Greenwood as it once was called, and requests that an alliance be made between the two countries so that Lorien may benefit from the military expertise of Mirkwood's troops in its present dilemma. And also so that Mirkwood itself may benefit from the alliance with Lorien by having free range of the records kept there and the promised aid of the Lorien troops in their times of need." Legolas wrinkled his nose. //That must be Rumil. I know the voices of everyone else.//  
  
Romul's voice echoed through the halls. "And Mirkwood enquires in turn what this dilemma is, so urgent that Lorien feels need to hurry an alliance between the two countries?"  
  
"Majesties, we are facing an attack from the Celebrant."  
  
"And what is the nature of this attack?"  
  
"It is an enemy force stationed in the Dale of Dimrill, my lords. Their numbers are many, anf the numbers of the Lorien fighters are too few to stand alone before them without heavy losses, which would leave Lorien open to attack from any area for the next several centuries."  
  
There was a pause as the Mirkwood council considered the request, and then a brief moment of discussion. Finally, Thranduil's voice was heard.  
  
"Mirkwood recognizes the request of the Lorien delegates, and will take it into consideration. In the meantime, Mirkwood offers you its hospitality and invites you to stay here for the time being."  
  
There was another, very short pause as the brothers pretended to consider. Then...  
  
"We accept."  
  
"Very well. Meeting adjourned!"  
  
Legolas stood up slowly, wincing at the ache in his back. //Well. There we have it. We're actually moving on at a much faster pace than I would have expected. However, the subject of an alliance marriage or union will not come up for a matter of days, possibly weeks. I have plenty of time to get used to Haldir.// He began to walk swiftly out of the alcove.  
  
//Now I had better scram, or someone will bump into me on their way out of the council.//  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Legolas yawned as he leaned against the wall, looking at the portraits for lack of anything better to do. Rather, that was his excuse if anyone managed to find him. What he really needed was time to think about Haldir.  
  
//Okay. We are as good as engaged, because we both know about the alliance-marriage coming up. We do bonding things. He is polite, and I am polite, and we are both very genteel and would pretend to be shocked by rough talk in front of each other, no matter how dirty we talk with our friends. We're cordial. We're pleasant to each other.//  
  
//But damn it all, I want more than that. Haldir's beautiful. He's smart, he's strong, he's well-versed in law and protocol. He has the unmistakable air of a caring person, but he doesn't care for me.//  
  
//I wish that the ground would just swallow me up now.//  
  
Legolas sighed in frustration, looking up at a tapestry depicting an immense battle. He pouted. //It isn't fair, damn it all. He's my dream man, I'm going to marry him, he likes my personality and not just my looks, he can have an intelligent and often witty conversation with me, and he thinks that I'm a girl. I hate this.//  
  
A small, nagging voice snickered in the back of his mind. //Oh? And why do you hate it? Because you're in-//  
  
//No. I am not in love!//  
  
Legolas stood firmly. A few seconds later he sighed.  
  
//Yes I am.//  
  
//I know Haldir isn't exactly charismatic. But something draws me to him, and makes me want to stay with him forever.//  
  
Legolas bowed his head. "I would give anything..." he whispered sadly.  
  
"For what?"  
  
Legolas forced himself to remain calm as his heart stopped for a few seconds. //Don't worry. It'll start again soon, it'll start again soon... dear Valar, my heart has stopped. Oh, this is just perfect. Haldir, thanks a lot-// A few seconds passed, and it started again. Legolas breathed a sigh of relief. //Thank Manwe.//  
  
"Actually," he remarked to the Elf who had sneaked up behind him, "I would give anything for quite a few things."  
  
He could hear Haldir chuckling. "Oh? I wouldn't be on that list, would I?"  
  
Legolass turned to face him. "You come after the pet wolverine."  
  
Haldir laughed again. "I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered." Legolas grinned.  
  
"No, see, what you really don't want to know is what comes before the wolverine. Then you would know, and you would throttle me." Legolas looked back at the painting he was standing in front of. It was a landscape of Rivendell's city Imladris, complete with the waterfalls. It was very beautiful. Someday, Legolas wanted to see it.  
  
Haldir leaned against the wall, looking at another painting. This one had Eilphdi and Thranduil in it, and they were sitting next to each other. Eilphdi looked very happy in it. Haldir tried to imagine what their own portrait would look like. He couldn't.  
  
Legolas smiled. "The strange thing is," he murmered, "I don't miss her. I never knew her. How could I miss what I never had? But sometimes, when I'm feeling angry, I get mad at her and blame her for leaving me and Romul and adar all alone. It's so strange. I don't even know for sure if she loved me. I don't know if I love her, even now. I wonder what she was like, how she moved, the way she spoke; but it's no use. No one ever wants to talk about her."  
  
Haldir looked at the Princess, but her eyes were distant and full of longing, full of sadness. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm here now," he said softly. Legolas's eyes widened, and he turned with a bewildered look to Haldir.  
  
"Really?" he asked in the same soft voice. Haldir nodded.  
  
"No matter how awful a marriage will be, at least we'll be able to stand each other," Haldir said with a small smile. "There is some good." Legolas nodded. Yes. There was some good in the situation, after all.  
  
//Except I'm really starting to love him. Not pretend love like courtly love and flirting and pretending to like someone. Not Legala. Legolas is the one who loves Haldir, and sooner or later I'm going to tell him. I don't know when, but it's definitely going to happen. //  
  
Haldir didn't notice the matching droplets of water sliding down Legala's face. He was preoccupied with his own turmoil.  
  
*****tbc*****  
  
A/n: *grins evilly* WAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!!! I'm not coming back until I feel like it! 


	7. Eyes

A/n: I have the sneaking suspicion that my writing is deteriorating horribly. Ergo! I shall write more frequently and thus hope to improve. Meh. I really do feel awful about my writing.  
To respond to a query by a nice reviewer, yes, Mercedes Lackey is one of my favorite authors. And I have nearly all her books. *grins*  
Oh, and later on in this chapter, I shamelessly make up a new species of plant and exaggerate the power of elven healing. *grins* Ho ho ho!  
  
Disclaimer: No. I do not own it. I only own my box.  
  
Chapter Seven: Eyes  
  
Haldir walked a bit unsteadily to the outside observer. But he was upright, and his shoulders were in their usual position; raised and high with pride. His chin jutted forward, and his mouth was fixed in the neutral expression worn by everyone in court.  
  
His, eyes, however, were cast downwards, refusing to meet others. If one could have looked into them, one would have seen a storm.  
  
//What in all hell is happening to me?// Haldir walked sedately down the stairs, his stance perfectly calm.  
  
//Oh, Valar, why? I am not supposed to even like girls. I know I don't like girls, point of fact. Legala... why do I think about her like I do? Admitted, she has no breasts to speak of, but it could just be the corset. But. But it isn't just that, it's the way her hair falls in front of her face, the way her hands move, the way she smiles and laughs...//  
  
//What am I thinking? I cannot love her. I cannot. We will not spend much time with each other, anyways, for she is the greatest diplomat of her country and I am the Marchwarden.//  
  
Haldir sighed. //Remember. You must as strong as a statue of ice, and as cold. There is no place for hearts in the world of politics.// Haldir's eyes hardened. //There is no place for emotions in a ruthless existance where none of them are valued. They are a weakness.//  
  
Haldir smiled cynically. //Diplomats are to be pitied, not admired. They appeal to the emotions and common sensibilities. They have no hope against a leader with no scruples.// He walked back over to Legala's side and coldly held out his arm for her to grasp.  
  
//Until this is all over, my heart must be dead.//  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Legolas looked curiously over to Haldir as he came out of his reverie and offered her his arm. The two had wandered apart in their journey down the stairs.  
  
Haldir's face was as unreadable as a slab of marble.  
  
Legolas sighed, and at his chest he felt the weight of the locket. Within it he had placed a small sketch of Haldir. Legolas sighed sadly. The portrait was a picture of Haldir smiling.  
  
Legols looked down, and wished that secrets could be told.  
  
//In marriage, a couple that love each other will sometimes choose to link their minds together. I suppose I must be pleased that Haldir does not want to meld with me, because that would give the game away. But... I am not heartless. I wish that we could be friends, at least. It would be good.//  
  
Legolas smiled, and gazed at the locket. It was made of silver, almost remniscient of Haldir's platinum blonde hair.  
  
//I love him. And at the same time, I'm so angry at him I nearly hate him. I wish 'we' could be, but 'tis simply him and me.//  
  
Legolas walked into the main hall, and gazed dispassionately at his circle of friends. A server who seemed vaguely familiar came, offering a sculpted amphora full to the brim with the fey wine of Mirkwood. He was balancing it carefully. Legolas nodded impassively, and the young man carefully chose a glass to pour it into.  
  
Legolas waited for his friends to notice his prescence, confident that they would not stay away once they realized he was there. They had been fast friends for as far back as his memory stretched. He accepted his wine from the server and began to drink it.  
  
Liset, Gireth, Clara, and Lourie walked over, smiling at him, and began to draw him into their circle of gossip. But the Princess was not listening. Her eyes were pale and listless, and they were half-shut with pain. She took another sip of her drink, trying to calm her stomach.  
  
//Nerves... it hurts... my stomach... stress? no. What is it...//  
  
Legala's eyes flew open, and she bit down hard on her tongue to keep from screaming.  
  
//oh, Valar//  
  
Legala walked weakly over to the nearest flowerpot, claiming to need a bit of a breather. Every step pained her. When she reached the pot of flowers, she slowly poured the poisoned drink into it. Trembling with relief and the awful pains in her gut, she walked back over to her friends.  
  
Clara looked concernedly at her. "Legala, are you all right?" she asked. Legolas looked up at her through bleary eyes. Her voice was so far away...  
  
Legolas felt his mouth smile and heard himself assure Clara that indeed, he was all right, just a bit faint.  
  
Then he wobbled, and nearly fell, and he had to grasp Lourie's arm to keep himself from falling.  
  
Clara grabbed him firmly by the arm, and said quietly, "Feeling a bit off, Legala? Allow me to escort you to your rooms."  
  
A voice cut through the murmer of voices, and to the Princess's relief it was Haldir's. "Allow me to assist the Lady Legala, miss. I'm sure it's nothing more than an upset stomach, you'll see. She'll be down again in no time."  
  
A strong arm encircled his waist, and Legolas had to restrain himself from screaming in pain. //It HURTS!!!!// he cried mentally. //Valar, it HURTS!!!//  
  
Haldir's voice and support led him through the sea of voices and people. He walked firmly and proudly, not showing the slightest sign of pain. Only Haldir knew just how much Legolas was clinging to him for support. Step by torturous step, they walked through the revellers and out of the Hall, and soon were facing the stairs.  
  
Legolas looked up at the three flights, and whimpered instinctively. His insides were cramping up and making it pure agony to breathe. Stairs? //Oh, Valar, no,// he wept.  
  
He couldn't even see Haldir anymore. Now that there was no one around, Legolas let out small cries of pain and half-choked sobs as the torment worsened and became more intense.  
  
Every muscle in his body felt as though it were knotted. Every small motion set his nerves on fire. Every single step stretched his Achilles tendon, which felt as though it were a bunch of mangled cording. His eyes were pallid and his cheeks were waxen with the terrible, agonizing deformation of his muscles.  
  
He had nearly lost conciousness from the pain when Haldir laid him down on his own bed, and he didn't realize that he had been softly calling out Haldir's name in his delirium. But once he lay down, much of the pain went away. It was only motion that upset his tendons.  
  
Legolas looked up at Haldir with pathetic relief. "Haldir..." he said softly, "it hurt. It hurt a lot."  
  
Haldir stroked his hair comfortingly. "I know, Legala, I know."  
  
Poor Haldir had no idea why, at the mention of the Princess' name, she began to cry.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The physician had a grim expression on her face as she leaned back from the comatose girl. She turned to Romul and Haldir, where they stood waiting, terse expressions on their faces.  
  
"I may not be the Lord of Imladris, but I know poison when I see it. I can only thank god that the Princess had enough strength to walk out of the Hall without letting out that she was in pain. If anyone had found out, I can only imagine the panic it would cause."  
  
She looked back at Legala, and frowned. "It looks to me like brithos. That's a strain of poison that feeds on the meat of muscles, sometimes shrinking them. It's used as a medicinal plant to increase blood pressure and, diluted, to clean muscles up for surgery. But this," she said, tapping one of Legala's arms, "was undiluted. Someone wanted her heart's muscles to contract and stop beating. Someone wanted her dead."  
  
Romul looked somberly at the body of his sister. There were dozens of hollow needles buried deep in her skin, at the places where crucial muscles were located. They were injecting an antiserum to stop the action of the brithos, which, thankfully, had not reached her heart, by pouring it down the needles' insides. Later on, the healer would use her own magic to stimulate the growth of the muscles and return them to normal.  
  
//Everyone is so damn calm about everything,// Romul growled. //They're so serene. My sister is lying there on the bed, impaled with all those tiny funnels, being stuffed to the teeth with drugs, and no one's even batting an eyelid!// Romul glared at the carpet, and twisted his hands together, wishing that the neck of whatever bastard did this was between them.  
  
Haldir was less furious than Romul, but he still felt a lingering sense of hatred at the person who committed the poisoning. //Legala's a good person. She shouldn't have to go through this. The only reason anyone did this to her was because of her title.// He sighed, and looked over at her still form. She hadn't even blinked.  
  
Legolas drifted in a haze of drug-induced sleep, wandering in and out of conciousness and, finally, settling in a dark place where he could think clearly apart from his body. He folded his mental legs, and frowned.  
  
//...Why? To kill me, I suppose. And that would prevent an alliance for who knows how long. But who? The same enemy that was foolish enough to station themselves in Dimrill Dale?// A thought occured to him. He blinked. //What if they weren't foolish? What if it is an ambush waiting in that dale?//  
  
//That server... who?// The memory came and bit him. //He was the one who- Haldir was- they were fooling around in the trysting spot! That means it could be a personal vendetta against me, to regain his love. But... Haldir. Wait. If I know one thing about Haldir, he doesn't lead people on. And he is very, very loyal. He would never leave a lover behind. That elf was not from Mirkwood. He cannot have been from Caras Galadhon. So he must have been subverted by whatever enemy we have. But we don't have any-//  
  
//Oh//  
  
Thoughts flew through his mind at speeds too high to be caught. One thing was clear; this enemy was obviously much more intelligent than they had first believed. Whatever was in Dimrill Dale was not as stupid as it looked.  
  
Legolas sighed, content with that idea for the moment, and let himself drift free again. Over his head, he could her murmered voices; his brother, the healer, Haldir- but they were all so far away, he couldn't catch what they were saying. He tried to open his eyes. It did not work, and the effort hurt. He slipped back into a place of nonreality, where the shades of grey wrapped about him and bore him off to sleep.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Romul stood quietly by the window of his sister's room. He looked up at the healer, who was completing her examination. The healer had an odd look on her face as she leaned back into her chair, but upon seeing Romul's gaze, she quickly schooled her expression.  
  
Her name was Larien, and she was one of the best healers the palace had. What puzzled her were two things. The first, the Princess was burning off the drugs at an abnormally high rate, and woould wake up very soon. Secondly- and this was the most shocking-  
  
//"She" is actually a "he"!// Her hands trembled a bit as she poured the last few shots of antiserum down the needles, hoping to god that no one else knew. Unlike some of her order, she had a brain for other things than healing. If any word of this got out, the scandal would be immense. She could only thank the Valar that the Princess- Prince?- had had enough common sense to behave as though nothing was wrong while she was at the banquet.  
  
Romul questioning looks finally made her raise her head. "Yes?"  
  
"Why do you look so worried? What's going on?"  
  
Larien smiled reassuringly, and lied through her teeth. "It's merely that Legala's burning up the medicine very very slowly, which I hadn't anticipated. It's nothing to worry about. It'll be a good six hours before she wakes up, so you may want to catch a bit of sleep."  
  
Romul nodded wearily, and with a last lingering look over Legala's form, he stepped out of the door, shutting it behind him. Haldir had had the sense to realize she would not be waking up anytime soon, and so he had already left to his rooms.  
  
Larien smiled grimly at the Princess as "she" moaned softly and began to twitch. //All right. When you wake up, my dear boy, you're going to have a lot of explaining to do.//  
  
*****tbc*****  
A/n: Next posting will be two chapters at once, o¶l0«`H Ä©ÿPACK [?]ø9ò,¼;T®685:^ [?]F0Ø&P(¬(0(r(´(Ø)z*ÀôDfG0¤*\+ªDB x[?]¶/hxNu/x0N 


	8. Only A Fool's Hope

A/n: I love you all. However, due to problems, the long-awaited response to reviews has been postponed- I only have a very short time to do this. ;_;  
Oh! And by the way, farflung? Squeeee!!!!! *hugs, sobbing* You're so awesome! Your reviews are so long and wonderful! And to Silvawen, I say, dude, you kick ass.  
Everyone else shall have to make do with a "You're all wonderful" for now. :P to the people who thought this story was going to suck when they first started reading. And Valentine bunnies to you all!  
  
Disclaimer: As IF.  
  
Chapter Eight: Only a Fool's Hope  
  
Legolas silently cursed as he woke up enough to realize that there was a healer in the room. A concious thought returned to him, he regretfully remembered the only other healer he had ever met- an Elf named Calen.  
  
//He was the only one who knew.//  
  
Legolas smiled weakly at Larien. "Well," he started awkwardly, "we seem to be in a bit of a predicament. One the one hand, I owe you my life, but on the other hand, you are now part of a forbidden trail of information. Do you know what happened to the last healer who attended me?"  
  
Larien shook her head uneasily, her chocolate-brown braids swinging slightly. Legolas looked grimly up at her.  
  
"Luthien's Bane." It was a disease that was very, very contagious; only healers who were willing to work until they died- which wouldn't be for long- ever took assignments like that. The only time it had flared up was about the same time Legolas had broken his toe. Two entire families had fallen ill. Calen, understanding that the information he held could be forced out of him by enemies of the kingdom, had volunteered.  
  
Luthien's Bane was called that because it caused its host to become so pale they were almost radiant. They would sweat gallons of their own body fluids, drinking and drinking, but never fast enough to balance things out. Towards the end, the victim would be constantly bathed in their own perspiration; they would emit a watery sheen that was as polished as a gemstone. As polished, some would darkly say, as a Silmaril.  
  
Larien gulped nervously. She was a young healer, fresh from Imladris and here as a novice to study the secretive Mirkwood Elves' documents on healing. They were looking for something that would sedate and calm an Elf without knocking them out. Probably for the twins, and their almost unbearable hatred. It was an unhealthy problem, to be sure; and lately, it had begun to have physical side effects.  
  
She nodded slowly, reluctantly. Legolas smiled. "Well, anything else you wanted to know?"  
  
Larien sighed. "I guess I was wondering how you planned on dealing with Haldir..."  
  
Legolas nodded and smiled weakly. "Don't worry," he said tiredly. "He's established that he prefers males."  
  
"So he knows?"  
  
"...no. No one knows."  
  
"But that must be awful, Princess! Er- Prince?"  
  
"It's all right. I'm used to being called Princess."  
  
Larien sighed. "Well, I hope you two get along with each other."  
  
Legolas laughed. "It would seem, to the casual observer, that we do. However..."  
  
"He thinks you're a girl, and he doesn't view you as a mate. Bother. Well, your life must be awful." Legolas blinked.  
  
"I don't know," he said truthfully. "I have never had it be otherwise; I don't know anything other than this. If you say it's awful, then it must be; but I could never say that, as I have no real idea." He looked down at his arm and wiggled his fingers tentatively. Larien smiled.  
  
"You'll be up and about by tomorrow, at the latest. Your personal magic has healed you even faster than I could have hoped for; like every other member of the Royal House of Eryn Lasgalen, your mage blood runs strong. Some would say as strong as your mother's."  
  
Legolas looked at her, a sad gleam in his eyes masking the shock he felt at the mention of his mother. "Did- did my adar come to see if I was all right?" he asked hopefully. Larien's eyes fell, and Legolas knew the answer before she said it.  
  
"Romul told him privately... he asked if you were being healed already, and when he found out I was with you, he said he didn't need to come." Larien avoided looking at him as she spoke. Legolas felt his good mood deflate instantly, as though someone had jabbed it with a spear.  
  
"Knowing adar," he said, turning his head to face the wall, "he also told Romul off for interrupting his meeting. Yes, I know he was at a Council meeting," he said, as Larien moved to speak. "He's always working. He never has time for anyone else," he choked out, trying not to cry.  
  
Larien quietly finished removing the needles from the Princess' skin, and began to wrap bandages around his body. By the time she was finished, Legolas had his personal walls back up, and his face was as cool and serene as it had ever been.  
  
"Larien?" he said quietly as she headed for the door. She turned, an expectant look in her eyes. He gazed impassively at her.  
  
"I don't care what herb you use. I don't care how long it takes, or how far you have to go. All I am telling you is that I command- yes, command you- to forget."  
  
The door shut behind her with a smooth, barely-audible click.  
  
//Thank ye Valar. She's gone. Now. Let's see if I can think straight.// He struggled into an upright position, and tested his feet on the floor. They wobbled a bit, but then they held firm.  
  
//I know who did it. That elf- I'll call him Arc. So, Arc has arrived into Mirkwood, the same day that the trio of Lorien delegates do. He immediately chooses to... 'mess with' Haldir. Then, a day later, he decides he is going to poison the Princess, postponing an alliance. We need that alliance as much as Lorien does- half the border patrols aren't coming home at all due to the spiders and the wild bands of orcs.// Legolas inched over to his closet door, bandages wrapped on nearly every part of his body except his face.  
  
//So. Arc is trying to disrupt an alliance, and if anything, it looks to me as though he is from Dimrill Dale. However, his prescence contradicts what we already know about that enemy. That enemy is supposedly stupid; we were planning to bottleneck them and slaughter them. But they seem to be a good deal more intelligent than we give them credit for.// Legolas hung limply to the doorframe of his closet for a few moments, resting.  
  
Then he walked in, and began to look for a suitable gown to wear downstairs. By no means would the Council have been ended by now, and he really didn't want to miss it.  
  
//So. The enemy is intelligent. He may be able to use magic, which is likely, because no one but an Elf would be permitted to come iside the Hall at a banquet, and no Elf would try to kill me. I think Arc is, at best, bespelled.//  
  
Legolas took out a simple grey robe, which attatched itself to him like a second skin. It fastened at his waist with a silver girdle, and then the skirt flared downwards, widening around his legs and allowing him to walk freely.  
  
//Now, who do we know who is capable of bewitching? It isn't Sauron, thank the Valar. We already know that much. So, one of the Istarii? Not Gandalf. Certainly not him. Saruman is too far away. And Radagast... well, there's a possibility that is could be Radagast. The other two Istarii, no one has ever met, so they must be viewed as possible suspects.// He frowned, as he realized that his hair was in disarray.  
  
//Or it could be a rogue mage.// That seemed far more likely than anything else so far, but just for the sake of it, Legolas backtracked.  
  
//Okay. It might just be that Arc is insane. But that seems unlikely. He's not attracted anyone's attention, not really. And psychosis is always picked up by our mind-healers. He isn't insane. Which leaves a personal desire to disrupt things, or bewitchment.// He sighed, applying the dreaded powder to his hair.  
  
//I'll know when I meet him.//  
  
He took out a silver necklace, embedded with grey moonstone, and clasped it about his neck. Then he stood back, looking at himself in the mirror. The thoughts which he was trying to avoid sprang into his mind.  
  
//Mother. They never told me you were a mage.// He sighed, and touched the fabric of the dress. //Please,// he whispered to the night sky. //Please watch over me.// And he tried not to put his mind to work on the subject of magic.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Princess Legala nodded courteously to the courtiers who tried to catch her eye, and sat down next to her father with a regal expression. It took a lot of energy to hold herself upright, but no one noticed. Except, of course, for Haldir.  
  
Legala looked at him fleetingly. Of course, Haldir would know. He had been the one who had brought him- her- up those long, slow, agonizing stairs. She wasn't sure, but her brother had probably come in to check on her. It was a good thing he had gone to bed- he would have demanded an explanation.  
  
Thranduil sat forward in his seat, after glancing impassively at Legala.  
  
"Mirkwood Council has taken time to consider your request for an alliance, and we announce that, due to an overwhelming vote, we have been forced to come to a conclusion." Legala felt a moment of panic as she caught sight of Thranduil's grave expression.  
  
"We cannot ally ourselves with Lorien, unless we know the exact and complete nature of this enemy, which supposedly resides in the Dimrill Dale." Thranduil sat back, a serene expression on his face, amid the murmers of the court.  
  
Legala could have cried with relief as Rumil stood up. //Thank ye Valar,// she thought, forcing herself to breathe normally. //He has a response. Oh, Vala, can't adar see that the enemy is dangerous to us as well?//  
  
"Lorien has anticipated this, and sent an account of the enemy. It appears to be some form of magecraft by a force, a force which appears to be alike to the Istari. We are not yet sure, but we have reason to believe that the enemy within Dimrill Dale is magical in nature. It is extremely likely that our enemy is one of the Istarii, possibly two. They appear, in fact, to be the two whose names history has shadowed." Rumil paused for breath, and Orophin grimly handed him a scroll.  
  
"The enemy is estimated to be made of spiders, an assortment of subverted Elves, and at least two thousand orcs. We suspect that there are a few trolls among them, but that suspicion remains unconfirmed. There are at least 2,500 beings within the Dale. The Lady Galadriel's attempts to discover my means of her mind the exact number have been dispelled, and every patrol sent within a twenty-yard perimeter has come back either wounded or not at all."  
  
Chaos erupted as Rumil sat down. Legala was stunned. //Of course. Of course. Why didn't I see it before? Lorien is famed for fighters, Imladris is the place of healers. But Eryn Lasgalen- my city-//  
  
//I never really thought about it before. We are the only place of mages. That's why they aren't begging at Imladris, they need offensive magic. Healing won't do much good until after the fighting.//  
  
//They're trying to take on Istarii. Sweet Valar. We'd need more than half the mages in the entire city! Has father thought about this-?//  
  
Legala looked at Thranduil He was idly fiddling with an invisible speck of dust on his attire, looking unconcernedly at the ruckus.  
  
//He has.//  
  
Legala let her head drop. //He thinks of everything// she thought dejectedly. //I can play at being a tactician, but this is far over my head when you face reality. I am no better than a diplomat.//  
  
//He must be disappointed with me.// Legala let her disguise slip, and fell into being Legolas.  
  
That he had magical abilities and, presumably, his mother had had them as well, was somthing he desperately did not want to know about. What if he had to use magic to defend Mirkwood? Every mage would be needed. Legolas sighed. Of course, Lorien might have counted on him having magical powers, which was yet another reason for Lorien to cement an alliance with Thranduil's house- who better than to lead an army of mages than a member of the royal household?  
  
Legolas stood up slowly, and the rest of the council followed his lead. Suprisingly, Thranduil did not protest. He merely nodded, not looking at Legolas at all, and sat back to finish some last business with a council member.  
  
Legolas sighed, and turned away from his father, walking out of the hall.  
  
Angry tears began to splash down his face. He scrubbed at them in frustration. //Damnit,// he thought, quickly running into an alcove. He stifled his sobs, gritting his teeth. //Damn it all, I shouldn't be crying, I should be working to secure a treaty of alliance. I promised myself I wouldn't think about this-//  
  
Images began to flash through his mind. The nurse, telling him once again, like every other day, his father was working. The time he spent alone, dressed in simple child-clothes, waiting for his adar to come out and play with him. Crawling, pathetically, into the councilroom, to sit at Thranduil's feet while the business was conducted. Wondering why he didn't have a mother like everyone else.  
  
Legolas choked, and began to rock back and forth, tears streaming down his face silently and falling like stars to the ground.  
  
A pair of boots appeared in front of him. Legolas stiffened. He had come down the hall unnoticed, he was sure. Who-?  
  
Of course. He had forgotten that Haldir would want to know why he wasn't in bed. He had let it slip out of his mind.  
  
Legolas looked up despairingly. Haldir paused for a few minutes, as if he was unsure of what to do. Then he sat down next to Legolas, and wrapped his arms around him awkwardly.  
  
Legolas let himself cry until it felt like his nose was swollen to half the size of his head, and by the time he had finished, he felt tired, but warm.  
  
(A/n: Sorry, I couldn't resist, but to all those Vanyel fans- "You're a mess, peacock." .... -_-; if you haven't read all of Mercedes Lackey's books and don't get the quote, shame on you!)  
  
Haldir looked at him cooly, giving him a handkerchief. Legolas nodded his thanks, and blew his nose. Sniffing, he let Haldir drop his arms. He cracked a small smile.  
  
"Sorry. I - it was stress catching up to me. My adar... we've never exactly been close. We have never even had a simple talk, not once. He's always so busy, and I always used to wish he would pay attention to me. Tonight- well, I guess something snapped.  
  
"I figured it out. Lorien wants me to be the head, if only the decorative head, of the mage army we'll have to send once the alliance it cemented. Mutual assistance, I gather?"  
  
Haldir nodded impassively. "Yes. We really do need you, not only the army. As you said, your public loves you. Once you get trained, I expect the mages shall form the same opinion." He smiled crookedly. "Yes, I could tell. You have no shields up, not even a small one. I can't imagine why you were overlooked. It was probably on purpose."  
  
Legolas nodded. The Haldir folded his arms oer his chest. "So, Legala," he said in a dangerous voice, "care to explain to me exactly why you're out of bed?"  
  
Legolas let his eyes drop. "Council. I wanted to be there," he mumbled.  
  
"And of course, you're going back to bed straight away."  
  
".... oh, all right," Legolas said crossly. "Baby me if you must. I hope you trip on your way down the stairs."  
  
Haldir's laughter echoed through the halls.  
  
*****tbc*****  
A/n: Hmmmm... Readers! Let me know if you think I'm taking Legala out of character. Or my version of Legolas. Because things are only going to get more and more plotty as we progress...  
Muse:.... *smacks tenderly with lead pipe*  
X_x  
Muse: That was for using alliteration outside poetry.  
X_x  
Muse: .....  
X_x  
Muse: ..... *pokes with stick*  
X_x  
Muse: I think I'll doodle on her face... *takes out a big fat red marker and begins to draw whiskers* 


	9. I Don't Want To

A/n: Ah! Hello darlings. I just took a peek at the reviews- someone named Lyn reviewed, claiming the use of needles was an anachronism- sweetie, they're explained in this chapter. The chapter describes how the needles are made within it, based on the mental image I had. ^.^ enjoy!  
  
A/n: 0.0 I am real real sorry about this. Haven't continued it like I should have. I was busy with finishing Labyrinth! Don't be maaaad!!!!!  
  
Disclaimer: 0.0 I don't have it!!!! *points randomly at other people*  
  
Chapter Nine: I Don't Want To  
  
Legala sat stiffly against a tree in a patch of rare sunlight, basking in its rays. Her skin didn't tan easily. And after all, she was holding a parasol.  
  
//Last night, Haldir seemed at a loss. When we got to my room, he looked as though he was expected to kiss me good night, and really didn't want to.// After taking a brief look around to see if anyone was coming, Legala slipped away, a persona, into Legolas.  
  
He sighed. //If only Haldir could be told...//  
  
In truth, Legolas needed time to think about other things than Haldir. After all, one couldn't lie mind-to-mind, and if he wasn't incredibly quick at learning to shield himself from mage probes and learning his lessons, his teachers were going to have to enter his head and help him. But, of course, when they went within his mind...  
  
//They are bound to find out unless I either am an undiscovered prodigy, or if I bribe them. Oh, Valar. Well, at least I know what's going to happen sooner or later.//  
  
Legolas frowned. His dress today was a prim, solemn floral on white linen, with tufts of lace at the sleeves. It was a bit stoic, but Legolas really didn't want to wear a fancy dress unless he had to. The grass on the hard earth beneath him let off a distinct scent as he shifted position.  
  
//Now. Let us try to think rationally about this,// he sternly said to himself and Legala- they were really, in effect, like two seperate people. //If there is no way to avoid having someone enter your mind, what do you do?//  
  
Legolas plucked a daisy and absentmindedly began to weave it into his shimmering blonde hair. He had left it down, with only a few scattered braids, because it had recently been washed and needed to dry. It fell in long, rippling waves in front of his ears and down his back and about his elbows.  
  
//You find someone you can trust with your mind.//  
  
Legolas frowned, but then footsteps broke his train of thought. He looked up as Larien walked by, a reed basket on her back. Larien noticed him too, and with a small wave, she hurried over. Smiling, she sat down beside him.  
  
"Hello, Legolas. Forgive me- I haven't had time to drug my memory away." Legolas smiled back.  
  
"That's all right. Actually, I had a question."  
  
"Ask away." Larien shrugged, her brown hair swept up in an intricate series of loops and twig-thin braids, a few strands falling out. She uncorked a water flask, and took a swig.  
  
"Are you a mage, trained in magic?"  
  
Larien coughed, spluttering, and looked at him in suprise. "Of course. Didn't you know? All healers have to go through magical training, or their powers could lose control. When that happens, a healer with no control over his magic..." Larien shuddered delicately.  
  
"Their magic is attuned to the bodies, minds, and hearts of the people around them. That's what all healers are tuned to. If a healer with no control grew very angry, they wouldn't just burst a blood vessel. They'd burst the blood vessels of the people around them, too." Legolas nodded, thinking it over. He smiled.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
Larien jerked a thumb towards the basket on her back. "Treating you took all the needles we had. I'm not an Adept Healer, so I got the job of making more. I need to get Blind Maid thorns, and jewelweed stalks (1)." She looked expectantly towards Legolas. "Do you want to help?" Legolas nodded shyly, and the two got up, dusting their skirts.  
  
//Well. It'll take my mind off of Haldir.// He smiled slyly to himself as he switched into his "Legala-mode".  
  
//And I'm suddenly quite glad that Larien hasn't erased her memory yet. She's a mage... she could train me!//  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Haldir sat back in his Council seat, the wooden bench making his back ache. He had been summoned to the meeting at the first light of dawn and it was around noontime now. Legala was lucky- she had arrived halfway. Someone had brought in a breakfast, but they were all getting a tad bit touchy, now that it was past lunch.  
  
"So," said a Mirkwood delegate, facing Haldir and Rumil. Orophin was out sick- he had gotten a small cold, and Haldir really didn't want him to spread it around the entire council.  
  
"So you are asking us, essentially, for our army?"  
  
Haldir cleared his throat and stood up. "Yes, that is correct, sir. However, owing to the magical nature of our attackers, it would be most welcome if you could send troops battle-hardened against magical attacks. Perhaps even a few mages, in order to instruct our own soldiers?"  
  
"That would indeed help both of our forces, to have a regiment of mages backing the soldiers or even fighting at the front. However, Mirkwood cannot simply send all of its mages over to Lorien! We need to have a backup defense for our own city, and furthermore, we don't know yet if we have mages to spare!" The delegate was red in the face, almost shouting his words across the floor.  
  
Princess Legala coughed politely on her dais, before the arguments rose- again. All eyes immediately turned to her. "Then I suggest that this meeting be called into recess, until the archivists can add up the total census of mages in Eryn Lasgalen, and determine exactly how many we CAN spare." She glared at anyone who looked as though he was about to protest, and then turned to the Archiver.  
  
"Could you please start your search for the census records now? I know it will take a while to sort through that pile." She smiled warmly at the Elf, and he nodded complacently. Then she turned to the Council once more, wincing as her white-gloved hands were pressured. Legala had gotten a lot of pinprick marks on her fingertips from collecting the thorns with Larien, but what she had gotten in return was more than worth it.  
  
Larien had agreed instantly that it would be impossible to have the normal mage teachers enter Legolas' mind. To his relief and delight, she had volunteered to instruct him, or act as an interpreter from the teachers into Legolas' mind. Needless to say, Legolas knew that he had to keep the Council arguing as long as he could. He himself had to be trained first, before the subject of an army came up.  
  
Legala cleared her throat, and smiled at the Council. "I believe it is time for luncheon."  
  
The room cleared as faster that she had ever seen. She hurriedly gestured a page over. "Could you see to it that a meal is sent over to the Archivists? I don't think they've eaten yet." The page nodded, and scampered off.  
  
Thranduil smiled thinly at Legala. She hesitantly smiled back. He nodded. "You are improving. Good work." Then he leaned forward.  
  
"Have you found a teacher for yourself yet?"  
  
Legala nodded, stunned. "Yes. She is the healer-mage who cured me, and she has offered to help instruct me, though I will have to learn swordfighting from someone else."  
  
Thranduil nodded. Then he handed Legala a pile of scrolls that she could barely fit under one arm. He smiled again.  
  
"These are tactical maps of Lorien. Use them well, please." Legala sighed. 'Use them well'. That meant, I expect you to know them by heart before the subject of an army is even considered.  
  
Thranduil rose to his feet, and strode out the door. Legala followed meekly, trying hard not to drop anything that was old and fragile.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Haldir stretched as he entered the lower Hall, his stomach suddenly roaring for food as the mouthwatering scents passed his way. He sat down in an empty seat near the corner, hoping to hear gossip- any gossip. After all, it was no point to try to listen to the young Elves who were still in love with tales of heroes, and viewed war as honor. But these minds were the minds which would decide his own future. And so he listened.  
  
"Did you think that the third delegate was missing because he didn't feel the need to come? Those disrespectful- oh, he was sick? Thank heavans he didn't attend, he would have given us all some nasty disease."  
  
"I think, myself, that the King ought to have been a little more stern with them. You can't just let those young ones run around with the nobility! Why, that debacle with the Princess-"  
  
"Oh, do be quiet. Can't you see that the Princess is in love with the Marchwarden? Everyone knows that, stupid!"  
  
"I think it's romantic, the two of them finding soulmates in the middle of such an awful crises! And of course, the Princess deserves someone who will love her."  
  
"Young, romantic fool. Who knows what that warden is up to? It's quite obviously a trick of some sort."  
  
"You're an old, sour fool! The Princess can tell if he's the wrong sort, she always can. We all know how she turned your offer down!" There was a circle of friendly chuckles around the table.  
  
"She was too young back when *I* asked. She just laughed at me."  
  
"Probably young enough to be your granddaughter!"  
  
Haldir quietly ate his meal.  
  
//They've made passes at Legala? Why, that's simply ridiculous. They must be at least twice her age.// Haldir paused, shaking his head. //What am I saying? Age means nothing to us. I'm acting ... odd. Like a human.//  
  
//I guess she really is popular. I didn't realize how much her people were devoted to her. Council members, asking quietly for her hand in marriage... I wonder how other people behave?//  
  
He sighed as he gave his tray to the elf on lunch duty with the cook. //Nothing like I do, I'm sure.//  
  
He found himself wandering up the stairs, towards Legala's room. It wasn't strictly approved, but he had been in her room before, so he hoped he could talk to her.  
  
He knocked lightly on the door, and it swung open gently. Legala was sitting over a heap of documents, muttering feverishly. Haldir cleared his throat. "Legala? Can I come in?"  
  
"Mm."  
  
"Is that a yes or a no?"  
  
Legala just gestured to a corner abstractly, not looking up from her work. She nodded her head vaguely, while turning to a new sheet of parchment. Haldir curiously walked over behind her, and peered over her shoulder.  
  
It was baisically a pile of maps of the layout between Lorien and Dimrill. Suprised, he noticed markings of all the usual caves, hills, and landmarks that he saw on his patrol. Legala frowned, and then began to sift through the pile once more.  
  
"What are you looking for?" Haldir asked quietly. Legala sighed.  
  
"I'm trying to find two natural features for the army to camp behind, so we can flank the enemy as he is drawn out. Preferably a line of stone."  
  
Haldir raised his eyebrows. "There aren't any."  
  
Legala turned around and glared at him furiously. "Dolt."  
  
"What!"  
  
"You're living right next to a gigantic mountain range. There is not a single solitary possibility that there are no rocks. This is why Lorien is so far away from Dimrill, to get away from the numerous outcroppings of unfarmable, uninhabitable, treeless ROCKS. If there were no rocks, Lorien would be IN Dimrill Dale, to trade easily with a gigantic port. However, Elves happen to need TREES. There is no FOREST where there are great, heaping piles of ROCKS!"  
  
Haldir quietly sat down, subdued. Legala glared at him for a few long minutes, and then she sniffed, turning back to her work. It was only then that Haldir noticed the small, neatly written sign above the desk.  
  
'Never argue with me when I'm working.  
  
Because I'm right.'  
  
Haldir coughed softly, and decided that this was one of those times to keep his mouth firmly shut.  
  
Legolas himself was frustrated. //I have to finish this. Now. I still haven't met with the Elf who tried to kill me!//  
  
*****tbc*****  
  
A/n: Ha! Now that I have written the last chapter of Labyrinth, I am free to write Intrigue!!! Woot! 


	10. Painfully Different por fin

A/n: Hola mis amigas y amigos! Como estan ustedes? Estoy muy emocionado- es mi vacacion, por fin! Yo tengo escribir mucho, claro que si... Pero, me gusta mucho escribir! Hahahahaaa...  
Hey there dudes. How are you? I'm so siked- it's FINALLY vacation. I have to write a lot of course... but I love writing! AHAHAHHAA!  
  
Ahem. 0.o I hope no one who speaks Spanish reads this, because I didn't use the accents or the proper punctuation... hides with computer under a rock Type time!!!  
  
Disclaimer: waves to Bill Gates Hey there! Guess what I want for MY birthday, Billyboy! gets hauled away by security  
  
Chapter Ten: Painfully Different  
  
Legolas sighed wearily as he laid his head down on the pile of maps. Uuuuuugh.  
  
Haldir quietly took the empty mug out of Legala's unmoving fingers. He gestured towards the pot. "More, Your Highness?"  
  
Legala frowned irritably. "No, and cut it out with the Your Highness. All I need really badly is a shoulder massage. Valar, my neck has a kink in it..." Haldir coughed.  
  
"Well, I have no idea how to give a shoulder massage... And you have to get to bed soon. You're recovering from a poisoning, you shouldn't even be walking about."  
  
Legala pouted. "Well, I have one more thing to do..."  
  
Haldir raised one eyebrow. "'One' ?"  
  
"Really! I mean it, just one more thing. I have to make a trip to the prisons... to see the Elf who tried to- you know. Anyway, it's absolutely urgent, so don't try and talk me out of it, and I don't want to hear any sarcastic comments from you while we're down there-"  
  
Haldir's other eyebrow raised. "You want me to come with you?"  
  
"For three reasons. One, you're a bodyguard-like figure. Two, you can provide an emotional support for me while I walk through the prisons, and three, I can't feel my legs." She sighed and glared at the chair she had been sitting in for the past four hours.  
  
"Well, what can I say? Your powers of persuasion work wonders on me. Let's go now; the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we'll both be in bed."  
  
Legala choked and started to giggle. She covered her mouth with her hand, and instead shook with silent laughter. Haldir frowned. "What?"  
  
"Nothing..."  
  
"Tell me!"  
  
"... Well, if you're so impatient, we could go to bed right now..."  
  
"You know what I meant! In separate beds!"  
  
"Sure, sure, Haldir. Whatever you say." She got up slowly, wobbling on her feet. Legala yawned, throwing her head back. She sighed as she looked down at her dress.  
  
"Oh, no." It was folded and messed after four hours, and a lot of the cloth was in permanent creases. It would take days of hanging for the creases to come out. Legala sighed again.  
  
"I have to change... I think I'll be wearing a black dress for the prisons. I think it would fit the mood. Powder, too, of course. Drat. I hate having to go out in public to get anything done." Haldir rolled his eyes, his own clothes in mint condition. Legala paused.  
  
"I'll just pretend I didn't see that."  
  
Haldir smiled. "See what?" he added cheerfully.  
  
The Elf's hair was knotted, matted in a huge mess behind his head. Across the far end of his cell, a hairbrush had been thrown. He was resolutely refusing to move, buried in his own small corner of the stone room.  
  
Legala sat across from him, legs neatly folded underneath her. Her own hair was underneath her hood. She breathed in once, deeply. Then she stared at the Elf.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked neutrally. The prisoner scowled, and spat at her. She ignored it.  
  
"Who sent you?" she asked, in the same monotone. The Elf crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"You're not getting anything out of me."  
  
"So your leader does inspire loyalty. Interesting."  
  
The Elf blinked. He cautiously let his mouth's fixed scowl lessen a bit. Legala raised one slender, sculpted eyebrow. He snorted.  
  
"You can call me Lalorn, dog," he muttered, and looked pointedly away from Legala's face.  
  
Legala sighed. "Who sent you?" she asked again, using a bit of force behind her words. "Can you tell me anything?"  
  
"Can. Won't. You filthy, tainted- beasts think you deserve to live on this green earth? You've allied yourselves with THEM." The hatred burning through Lalorn's eyes was like a blow. Legala smiled inwardly. Now we're getting somewhere.  
  
"Who's 'them'?" she asked conversationally, as if there was nothing at all unusual going on. Lalorn glared at her vehemently.  
  
"Filthy Men. You've let them carve away the forest, rip up the roots of the grass! Burning, biting, breaking, they come like a plague upon Arda. And you... you untouchables. You've let them! Filthy sons of pigs, dogs!" screamed the bound Elf, spittle flecking Legala's face. He was turning a violent shade of purple, eyes going dark with bordering hysteria.  
  
Men? What on earth...  
  
"But who are you to talk? Making allies with the orcs! You're killing your own kin, and becoming one with the enemy," Legala countered, arms rigid. Lalorn laughed.  
  
"They were like us, once! The orcs were- are- our kin, our own flesh and blood. It is through no fault of their own that they are who they are. And once their minds have been removed from under the sway of the Dark Lord, they are our soldiers to command! They are fighters, fighters for the side of the forest, now!"  
  
Legala's eyes narrowed. "Subverting the minds of orcs? Your great leader must be desperate if he's stooped low enough to enslave the minds of something no better than a beast," she seethed, anger radiating from her in waves. "What else does your fine Leader do? Subvert the finely-honed wits of the dumb animals? Or does he return the power of thought to the wretches before he dominates them once again?"  
  
"You're wrong." Lalorn chuckled. "He warned me that you would be like this. You're so easy to predict, so easy to trigger. You'll be easy prey for us."  
  
Legala stood stiffly. "I," she said in a voice colder than ice, "have not become one with the slaughterers of my people. I suppose that your Leader ensnared the Spiders, didn't he? It sounds like something he would do, this wretch. There is only one thing I have yet to discover, Lalorn. You have given away enough, but tell me-" she paused, smiling like a cat playing with a mouse, "does the Istari even remember who he was?"  
  
Her question was met with silence. Shocked eyes met hers, and then looked away, frantic.  
  
"Come on, Lalorn. Surely you know exactly why I'm questioning you. Since you are, of course, so wise?"  
  
"Of course I do," Lalorn muttered. He looked at her through eyes that bore an uneasy resemblance to a caged animal's. Legala smirked for the show of it. Of course he didn't know. He was playing along, like any other simpleton would. This was a manipulative art, interrogation of the captive. Royalty, again, had to know it. If they were ever taken captive, they had to 'know their enemy', as it were.  
  
"So why can't you simply give your side of the story for the records? We've already won the war. Your master was pitifully easy for our mages to crush. This is purely for the records," Legala said airily, letting her hood fall back with a pompous flick of her wrist. Silver bracelets jangled, sounding not unlike bells.  
  
Lalorn's eyes were all she was watching. A dilation of the pupils... the faintest hint of reddening at the edges where skin met eyeball... a slight discoloration of the iris? Ah, panic. Terror? Definitely near the edge of whatever mental abyss he was trying to keep himself from. Oh, and the lines of the face, easier to read, spelling things out like a map. Four vertical creases between his brownish eyebrows, crow's feet sharply outlined as his cheek muscles rose, mouth slightly open to breathe faster and gain more air, nostrils flared... the adrenaline was rushing through him like a lightning bolt.  
  
Legala didn't let her smirk fall. Inside she pondered gravely. Lalorn's world would be falling apart around his ears, ripped at the seams. Next would come...  
  
"NO. He didn't. He didn't fall! He's too strong to fall! YOU! You weak miserable little worms! Lureanen was-" He choked himself, and leaned back on the stone, eyes tightly shut but still leaking tears. He let out a moan like a tortured beast, crying openly.  
  
Denial.  
  
Lureanen? What? A name, I think. What does it mean? It is not Sindarin. It must be Quenya. Nen... nen is water, isn't it? I heard an elf praying and he called on four elements, I forget when, but nen definitely means water. Lurea? Lurea.... well, lu-re means bad weather... Bad water? Dark water? Dark water. I wish I had paid more attention to those scrolls of Quenya...Legala breathed deeply, and bit her lower lip. This was the most delicate piece of the interrogation.  
  
"You don't have to fear," Legala said gently. "As soon as our healers make sure that nothing is mentally wrong with you, or wipe your memories away for you if you wish, we'll let you go." She ached as the lie slipped out from between her lips. This was the part that made her sick, the promises which were always, eventually, broken...  
  
Lalorn looked at her, miserable. "My master is dead. I have no call to live any longer than I must. What do you want from me? Can't you ask someone else?"  
  
Legala shook her head. "You're one of the only captives in good enough shape to give us anything worthwhile. Now, can you start by telling me why you chose Dimrill Dale as a base?" She tried to keep her tone light.  
  
Lalorn swallowed, and quietly said, "I didn't. My Lord did. He said- he said that you filth would be foolhardy enough to try and bottleneck us there, and it was completely secure because- because of the water, you know, the water traps for the boats?" He looked up hopefully. Legala smiled icily.  
  
"None of the traps worked. We sent decoys first, and they sprung the traps for us." Lalorn's face fell, and he frowned bitterly.  
  
"I'm not telling you any more today. I need- I need to think," Lalorn said, head in his hands. Legala's mind raced. Something was telling her not to let him alone, but why? Suddenly she knew, and she sighed, standing up.  
  
I feel sick.  
  
"Guard?" she said, calling down the hallway. An elf sentry appeared a few moments later. Legala stepped out of the cell, and locked it behind her.  
  
"Yes, my lady?"  
  
"Have someone watching the prisoner at all times. I think he's going to try to kill himself."  
  
The doors to the prison shut behind them with a thud. Legala gasped, and sat down, breathing heavily. "Oh, Valar, she moaned. "It's worse than I thought." Haldir quietly sat down on the ground beside her as she sank to her knees.  
  
"It was worse than we all thought," he said quietly. "That was quite manipulative back there, Legala. You played him like a harp. I assume that you don't use those skills often-"  
  
A strangled sob rose from Legala. Haldir drew her into one of the side hallways, alarmed. "What? What's wrong?"  
  
"A s-strong leader doesn't show weakness t-to anyone," she mumbled. "A good leader is r-responsible for everything that happens, and prevents the mistakes..."  
  
Haldir sighed. "You've cried in front of me before. One more time can't hurt."  
  
"Oh yes it can-" she choked, practically strangling herself. She shoved his hands away and for a few minutes the only sound was her breathing, harsh and ragged. Slowly, her breaths became less erratic, and smoothed out. She sighed.  
  
"I wish I could use you as a crutch, Haldir, but I can't. I can't depend on anyone but myself. It has to be this way. I'm going to be leading a veritable army of mages, into battle against someone we've always thought was completely incapable of evil- like finding out a god you have worshipped for centuries has been devouring innocents behind your back. I cannot be weak. I must be the one that everyone else leans upon." She turned back to face Haldir, the redness leaving her eyes, as she smiled weakly at him.  
  
"But I still need someone; at the very least a friend. Even I am not that foolish. Please, just- just don't let me depend on you."  
  
Haldir nodded acceptingly. He let Legala lean against him for support as she sorted her mind out, absentmindedly patting her on the head. He had some sorting to do of his own.  
  
I'm worried. Not just for myself and my brothers, not anything like I know. I'm worried for Legala. But why... I suppose you could call us friends, then. She is the most compelling woman I have ever met, after all and-He stopped, smiling faintly.  
  
This is madness. I love no woman. I am sure... I cannot love Legala. It is impossible. This is an attachment, a friendly one. It is not love. After all, look what she is capable of doing! Doubtless she feels sick about it, but still... Haldir. Never trust a politician. Isn't that the first thing you learned?  
  
Legolas felt the warmth of Haldir against his back. He sighed, relaxing. He's here. It'll be all right. As long as I have someone like him by my side, I can't fail...He groaned. Valar, that was grueling. I don't like shouting matches with disturbed people... I don't like it, I don't! It makes me feel disgusting inside. But I'm all right. I'm all right. I had to do it for my country. And Haldir doesn't hate me, not yet. I still have some control over things.  
  
He smiled, as he and Haldir both got up.  
  
Well. If this isn't love, then I don't know what love is.  
  
tbc  
A/n: . Yes, this will be slash. Duh. Hel-lo? Read my profile! And yes, I am repenting even as I type this for not making it a longer chapter. Sorry peeps. ;;. I'm so guilty. Ha! Ha ha ha! I'm getting away with it though!!! :P oh and by the way, review me or I'll shoot you in the head. And, Silva darling, I'm sorry for the long wait in updates. Peace out, y'all! 


	11. Predictable Angst

Chapter Eleven: Predictable Angst  
  
Legolas sat in a small chair by the side of his private garden pool, not really noticing the blue and purple fish. He had a text in his lap, an old weathered volume whose subject was the philosophies of Eru. A bitter smile was wrapped about his face, sinking into his entire attitude, more like a scar than an expression.  
  
There IS no Lureanen.  
  
There were no translations of the names into Sindarin, but the two unamed Maiar, or Istari, were called Pallando and Alatar, and it was debatable whether or not they had ever come to the eastern shores.  
  
Legolas shut the book mechanically with a small click, and rose from his perch. He stalked over to the rope ladder leading to his study, which annexed his rooms, and when he had reached the top, he opened the door with a savage kick. A small voice inside of him was warning him not to break anything, and he knew the voice was correct, but he wished dearly that the Elf in the prisons was there, so he could take out his fury.  
  
"Damn. DAMN! The bastard. That unbelievable bastard- he outwitted me, and he's probably gloating to himself right now! Ugh, Mandos, please, if you have any love at all for my family, make his passing painful...."  
  
Legolas sat, tensed, at his desk, not really believing that he had somehow missed the fact that the Elf was lying. Obviously, Lalorn's master had set up that persona before ever sending him on a mission, and it was set to come into control when the Elf was captured. The Elf had been lying perfectly. Legolas snorted huffily. Lalorn probably believed whatever he had been saying, by now. Poor, weak-minded fool. Part of a larger conspiracy.  
  
Head in his hands, he tipped his chair back with a groan. "Now if only we knew who the real culprit was, we'd be set and ready. Vala. I'll need to take a few days off of Council to work on this. And," he said, with a frown and a look of dawning apprehension in his eyes, "I'll need Larien to come and help. If we can salvage any information from the captive, we won't know if it's his genuine reactions to interrogation, or just the persona."  
  
Everything was getting more and more convoluted the farther he dug into this, and he didn't like it. Frowning, Legolas got up and put on a lacy pink robe, despite the involuluntary shudder the color caused. Then he went into his room, and rang the chime for a page to come.  
  
"Yes, milady?" asked the page, head bowed respectfully. Legolas smiled thinly.  
  
"Get me a bottle of the strongest that the cellar's got, please, and try to get it here quickly. Give them this," he said, holding out a ring, "and they won't ask any questions. Oh-"  
  
"Yes, milady?"  
  
"Better make sure the bottle's closed."  
  
The page nodded and ran off, leaving the door open. Legolas shook his head, and pushed it shut with a weary grimace. He took out a few pieces of parchment and a long pen, and began to write.  
  
Fact: Lothlorien claims to be under threat. They have asked for a mutual assistance treaty which may involve my marriage to Haldir.  
  
Fact: My mother was a mage, I have some of those powers, and Lothlorien knows this. Lothlorien probably wants access to our mages, for whatever the real reason is.  
  
Fact: We have caught an Elf, who succeeded in poisoning me, and who was sent from the so-called enemy. Previous interrogations failed. He seems to be acting under the influence of magic.  
  
Fact: The most likely position for our enemy thus far appears to be Dimrill Dale.  
  
Fact: The most likely enemy (from current information) appears to be an Istari, or, presumably, another being with extremely talented magical skills.  
  
Fact: I intend to get myself very, very drunk.  
  
Fact: On the other hand, if I get very, very drunk, I'll be in a vulnerable position to attack from all sides. Perhaps I'll get somewhat intoxicated, but not completely.  
  
Fact: Remember; that when the truth is found in the defenition with the most power behind it, everyone is your enemy. That when you are vulnerable, you have no "friends". That when you are one step behind, anyone and anything will merely be waiting for you to stumble.  
  
Fact: I need to discuss things with Father.  
  
Fact: Okay. Life is a power game. Let us assemble the powers before us.  
  
-Lady Galadriel and her husband, the driving force of Lorien and its Galadhrim.  
  
-The force of Mirkwood and its mages, possibly a magical army.  
  
-Something that appears to be an Istari, with an almost impossible number of troops and a fantastic amount of power.  
  
Legolas paused. "There's still something missing," he growled, as the door opened. He looked up to see Haldir in the doorway, holding the bottle of Mirkwood's fey wine with a sardonic expression. Legolas smiled.  
  
"Hello, there."  
  
"Good evening, Princess. And how are you?"  
  
"Shut up, and be reasonable. I need something to drink."  
  
"You don't say," Haldir said innocently, uncorking the bottle and whisking a pair of glasses from somewhere out of the blue. "It just so happens that I, too, need to have a strong shot of ox-killer, and lucky for the both of us, I took this out of the hands of a rather too neurotic page."  
  
Legolas grinned. He looked down at his paper and the grin slowly faded away. :Now, there has to be something wrong here. The Istari aren't supposed to attack us, they're supposed to help us.: For some reason, Legolas felt uneasy, as though a dark little thought was trying to make itself be heard. :And there is nothing else it could be. I have all the relevant powers listed here, save for Elrond, but Elrond has no offensive magic whatsoever. The Rohirrim are still recovering from the losses in the War of the Ring, and King Aragorn has yet to rebuild his military forces. Besides, they're humans. They wouldn't attack us. They practically revere us.:  
  
Haldir took a small sip of his glass, the liquid in it almost black, and with a sheen to it that was almost oily. He shuddered. "This is strong," he remarked in a high-pitched voice. "Very strong."  
  
Legolas smirked and elbowed him in the stomach. "Tipsy?"  
  
"Madam! Never," Haldir said sternly, while slipping off the bedside onto the floor. "Merely taking the time to show my reverence."  
  
"I understand completely," Legolas said with blatantly false sincerity. "Do take your time, and try not to drink yourself into a stupor."  
  
Haldir mumbled under his breath while Legolas's innards softened. He really enjoyed the time he got to spend with the Marchwarden, regardless of how it was spent. Legolas knew that love was often deceptive, but he had never really known that it could make someone ordinary appear breathtaking. Furrowed brows or a chapped lip could make another person look askance, but under the throes of love, Legolas doubted he would have minded if boils sprang up all over Haldir's face and chest.  
  
:Now, wasn't that a particularly pleasant mental image?: Legolas said mentally as his stomach disagreed with vehemence. :No more of your nonsensical lovelorn ideas; get back to work or go to bed. Alone. Stop. No, don't think about that, you idiot, you'll embarass yourself!:  
  
"Haldir?"  
  
"Yes, milady?" said the still-sober Haldir with an unreadable glance.  
  
Legolas twiddled with the hem of his robe. "If I was a g- If I was a boy, would you want to be with me? In... that way?"  
  
Haldir's face reddened. He looked away.  
  
"Don't start that again, please."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because despite what you may think about your body, it really does matter to me what your gender is. Breasts frankly make me feel ill, not that you have much of anything in that department. And you'd be missing a rather indispensable anatomical necessity."  
  
"But what if?" Legolas said softly, eyes watery and hands clenched. "I'm not that bad, am I? Do you hate me now?"  
  
"Look, Legala, I don't hate women, I just don't want them."  
  
"So you fantasize about my brother more than you do about me, is that it?"  
  
"Legala-"  
  
"Shut up. Don't answer that, I don't want to know."  
  
"Fine. Be a stubborn bitch. If you want an ego boost, I'll gladly go fetch you that young page again."  
  
Legolas's ears went bright red. "Don't joke about things like that," he said quietly. "I am forbidden to have a relationship with a female or a male, for the sake of my country's honor, and you, my probable future husband, will not have a relationship with me either. I will not have an affair, and I will try not to notice any of yours, but for Eru's sake, at least pretend to love me!"  
  
"I'm sorry. All right? Don't start crying, now, I mean it, I really am sorry. I like you, maybe love you, but I don't physically want you. I love you like a sister, not like a wife."  
  
Legolas nodded. "I'll have to accept that, even though I want more," he pronounced, gloomily tracing his veins with his index finger. He picked up his pen once more, and resumed work, occasionally sipping on his glass of sanguine liquid.  
  
Fact: Saruman, Gandalf, and Radagast are all peaceful, and therefore, they cannot be responsible for the siege of Lorien.  
  
I mean the supposed siege of Lorien.  
  
Conclusion: I am beginning to suspect that Ada knows more that he is telling regarding the Istari mystery. It may not be an Istari at all, and I need to find out as soon as I can. I should probably go tomorrow morning to his flet, and then spend the rest of the day with the prisoner. That reminds me. I need to get Larien, tomorrow, as well, before I go to the prisons. Furthermore, I should remember to ask adar his intentions regarding the probable alliance and whether I'm to be bartered off in a marriage after all.  
  
Legolas put down his pen.  
  
"Haldir?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Do you have a high tolerance for alcohol?"  
  
"I could drink you under the table. And your father, too."  
  
"Good. Keep an eye on me, I'm getting very, very drunk."  
  
tbc  
A/n: Heh, I finally updated. God, I'm a lazy arse. Anyways, I hope no one gave up on this story. It's not dead yet, mates, it's not dead yet...  
Oh, and to any rampant Achilles/Brisaeus flamers who're thinking of trying to f with me, I give you a condescending laugh and a little pink pacifier.  
I promise to update, really, I'm just involved in these other stories... at Fictionpress, you know, my name's Hyacinthe Wing, check me out there if you're desperate for more of my writing. Ta. 


	12. I was too lazy to name the chapter

A/n: Oh my holy God. Is it... a bird? A- a plane?! NO, IT'S AN UPDATE!!!! THE FIC LIIIIVES!

pant Right then. Mates, I am officially up to my earlobes in schoolwork. I am in High School (capital s and h) and We Do Not Play Around In High School. Or Write In our Free Time, Because Free Time is when They Feed Us and Let Us Sleep. Heh. It's an all-girls school, very nice. I quite like it, myself. I love it here. It's just... it's eaten my life alive.

Chapter Whatever: Fatherly Look

Thranduil spent a few minutes slowly sipping his broth, eyebrows in their usual scowl. He set the mug to one side, and paused deeply for yet another five minutes. By this time, Legolas had begun to fidget and twiddle with the hem of his spidersilk duster. It was a ruffly, flambuoyant outfit made in pale lavendar and grey; underneath was a white flax shift, and under that he was wearing a pair of ribboned lavendar stockings. His choker was silver, inlaid with ebony. Needless to say it wasn't exactly sensible, but Legolas didn't really care. He might as well enjoy himself if he had to wear dresses.

"Legala," Thranduil said solemnly. "You have been operating under the assumption that the Lady Galadriel- may the Valar curse her- has been truthful with us. Use your head, child. Why would she want to appear as though she needed our aid?"

"To... use our aid for her own reasons," Legolas said, eyes wide and lips thin. "But how-"

"The captive is under mind control. Obviously if she can extend her reach this far, she can control one little princess in her own realm."

"... Me?"

"Legala, why did you think I kept you dumb to your powers? Screaming at a deaf man is what it's like; a mage can't spike his mind against someone who isn't affected. It's certainly illegal under our treaties; but she's been trying to affect our family indirectly, via the controlled elves. There is no rogue Istari."

"No..." Legolas murmured, eyes troubled. "She's- isn't she a good person? A just ruler? She's a nice Elf-"

"She and Elrond bear Rings of power. What kind of person would willingly use a power to bind their people to each other? A good ruler wouldn't need to, Legala. We wood-elves have been living in Middle Earth since our creation. These 'Light Elves' came much later, and that was in their quest for the Silmarils."

Legolas did not hear the rest of his father's somewhat predjudiced lecture. He stood numbly in the middle of his adar's room, feeling shellshocked and a bit stupid. Vala, do I jump to conclusions,he thought blushingly. There's no way I could have seen that coming. I guess you can't really ignore their past when you look at people... Her kind committed the Kinslaying, after all. I just can't believe that an Elf would deceive another Elf. We're all one kind, aren't we? We're the good guys, right?

As Legolas walked back to his rooms, his mind relaxed into a stupor, ideas flying past and vanishing like darts of furtive light. This is called shockhe thought. Am I racist because I tried to pin the crime on the other races before considering Elves?He frowned bemusedly. I wonder if the Helcaraxe still has Elves living in it, trying to survive and come to Arda? If they were dead, they would be skeletons by now... No, they wouldn't, ice would preserve them perfectly. Do they think the Kinslaying is still going on? I wonder.

Maybe Haldir has a few ideas about it. No, I can't ask him, that would be being dependent, I need to form my own ideas first. Hells. I don't even know where to begin. Where do I start from? What do I base my reasoning on? Can I even trust Haldir? Can I trust any Elf, for that matter? Can I trust me, if I myself am an Elf? What ... am I?

Slumping into a windowseat, Legolas used a finger to trace the condensation as it collected on the panes. Must sit and think.He smiled bitterly. Well, whatever I am, I'm not exactly an Elf. Am I technically a boy or a girl? The world defines me as a girl, because I wear a dress and have delicate features, because I do not engage in rigorous physical activity, because I have impeccable manners and a charming smile and walk with a slight swish to the hips.

Anatomically, I'm a male. But am I boy or girl? No one will ever see inside my head; so my opinion does not count, really. I am what the world defines me as; I am the Princess in the dress. No one can see into anyone else's body and put a name on what they are. Is there a word for boy-prince-disguised-as-girl-princess-questioning-identity-and-attempting-to-solve-international-dispute? Is that what a Legolas is, means, makes up? What sort of an adjective is a Legolas?

Legolas froze as a drop of water rolled down his finger, pooling in his palm. The world seemed narrowed to a roaring in his ears.

Lothlorien is the enemy. Lothlorien is going to remain the enemy.

I am not and never will be engaged to Haldir.

And the world crashed.


End file.
